


Tourniquet

by Terminallydepraved



Series: Works for Others [61]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dullahan!AU, Eventual Romance, Implied/referenced past character death, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Rated For Violence, Rating May Change, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22328017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: Life had been hard for a Dullahan a few hundred years ago, and it’d been hard now too. But things were good. Better. Detroit had been a good move on his part. Safe. The scientists and agency hadn’t seemed to follow him this far north, and the peace he’d enjoyed was something… novel. He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt secure enough to perform magic for anything other than survival purposes. He’d been so paranoid that they had learned how to track him through it, but…Connor let out a breath and made himself smile. Living a normal life was strange. Having a job was stranger. Making friends, going on dates… “If you can survive all of that, Connor, you can manage a good night out with good company.”AKA the fic where Connor is a Dullahan on the run from a shady organization and all he wants to do is woo the handsome Lieutenant from work.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Series: Works for Others [61]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/378145
Comments: 104
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gildedfrost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gildedfrost/gifts).



> sup! from the same creative mind that brought you the fowler60 series, we've got another au to enjoy! this time its a fantasy au with Connor as a dullahan who has escaped from a testing lab after undergoing some pretty awful experimentation. he fled to detroit, changed his identity, and is now trying to live a normal life as an IT support for the DPD. i hope you guys enjoy it and where it goes! thanks for reading!

Connor looked into the mirror, twisting and teasing his hair for the fiftieth time that evening. He didn’t have a whole lot to style, but somehow that just made him feel even more desperate to do something different. It wasn’t every day he had a date. Hell, it wasn’t every day he went out period. Wanting to make things perfect superseded making sense of everything else. 

Connor stuck out his tongue and tried a little harder to make his cowlick lie flat. When it still refused, he gave in and snapped his fingers, a ripple of magic shimmering in the air to glamor the locks into the proper shape. He smiled at his reflection and smoothed his hands down the rest of his outfit. It wasn’t good to get back into the habit of relying on magic to make things easier, but tonight was a special occasion. He could afford to be a little indulgent. 

The reflection in the mirror looked worried. Connor took in his sleek button up and thick denim jacket, the tight fit of his dark jeans… He ran his thumb along the neat ribbon tied around his neck. The bow wasn’t big—he didn’t think that was a style people wore in this day and age very often—but it still helped detract from the thin line he hid beneath the satin. He’d gotten the idea from a short story he’d read once. 

Of course, that story didn't have a happy ending; he was sure this one would. For starters, his head wouldn’t just fall off if the ribbon was untied. The seam was barely visible these days, and it would take a lot more than just gravity to make it topple onto the floor. And he would know. After all those years in the facility, he’d learned his limits and then some. 

Letting out a sigh, Connor tried to stop thinking about it. He’d been free from those experiments for a few years now, been living his own life and keeping his head firmly attached to his shoulders the way he wanted it to be. Things were fine. Better than fine. Wasn’t this night proof enough of that? He had a date of all things. That had to mean he was doing something right. 

Life had been hard for a Dullahan a few hundred years ago, and it’d been hard now too. But things were good. Better. Detroit had been a good move on his part. Safe. The scientists and agency hadn’t seemed to follow him this far north, and the peace he’d enjoyed was something… novel. He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt secure enough to perform magic for anything other than survival purposes. He’d been so paranoid that they had learned how to track him through it, but… 

Connor let out a breath and made himself smile. Living a normal life was strange. Having a job was stranger. Making friends, going on dates… “If you can survive all of that, Connor, you can manage a good night out with good company.”

And the company did promise to be good. The best, in fact. Connor turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom after turning out the light. He navigated his way through his small yet cozy apartment until he reached the living room where he’d left his cell phone on the couch. He thumbed over the lock screen and saw that he didn’t have any texts or calls. He let out a sigh and sank onto the couch. A glance at the clock told him he was still running early. Nerves always did that to him. Hank wasn’t supposed to get here until six but here he was, already dressed and ready to go by five thirty. 

His heart stuttered and his thumb opened up his phone, tapping open the text center. He scanned through the old text messages, reading over a conversation he’d already memorized. It still felt surreal, the fact that Hank had said yes. It had been hard to think that fixing the man’s computer a few times would have gotten him this far, but there was something to be said about persistence. 

_ “I swear this thing has it out for me,” Hank muttered, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he glared at the blank screen.  _

_ Connor laughed from his position on his knees, tapping away at the keyboard before turning his attention to the cables plugged into the tower beneath the desk. “Don’t feel too bad, Lieutenant,” he said, making sure to send a bright smile the man’s way. “It took me awhile to find my way with technology too.” _

_ “I’ve told you before. You can call me Hank.” _

_ “Okay, Hank,” Connor smiled, a flicker of warmth going through his chest as he sent a spark of something special through Hank’s computer, making it flare to life in an instant. It wasn’t how he usually did things, but it felt right.  _

_ It felt right to bend the rules a little for Hank.  _

The doorbell rang, breaking him from his reminiscing. Connor darted to his feet and sprinted to the door. 

Hank, as it turned out, was also running early tonight. 

He stood in the doorway only a little awkwardly, hands shoved in his pants pockets before retracting to hang at his sides. Connor smiled at him, positively  _ beamed.  _ “It’s nice to see you, Hank,” he said brightly. “You look…” Nice didn’t cover it. Connor had always found Hank to be an attractive man, but this… He’d combed his hair back and trimmed his beard, and instead of one of his loud printed button ups he wore a nice sweater with a jacket thrown over it. The dark navy gave him a distinguished air, one that went really well with his sturdy build. Connor felt some heat rise to his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “You look really good for being so early.”

Hank colored at the compliment. “Says the eager poodle. You don’t look so bad yourself,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I like the bow. It’s cute.”

Connor beamed. He traced his fingertips along the satin. “You think so?” He let out a small breath of relief. “I figured it was something different. I’m glad you like it.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, just staring at one another. Another bubble of nervous, elated energy rolled through Connor. He was just so— so damn  _ happy.  _ A few years ago he never would have thought this kind of thing possible. He’d come so far in such a short time. Nothing may even come of their date tonight, but the important thing was that he was able to  _ do this.  _ Just… try. It was a dream come true. 

Hank cleared his throat and shot him a smile. “Since we’re both eager beavers… do you just wanna head out? See if our table’s ready?”

“Sure, Hank,” Connor grinned. “Let me just go grab my things.”

Wallet, keys, phone. Connor collected them all and raced back to the door, closing it behind him and locking it for good measure. He tried not to bounce on his heels as Hank led him down the stairs and to his old car. His hands fumbled the seatbelt from excitement, but Hank just seemed to find it funny.

“You always this hyper?” he asked, glancing every so often at Connor as he drove. 

“No, not really. Must be the good company.”

Hank colored and vehemently pretended he’d done no such thing. Lucky for him the restaurant wasn’t too far from Connor’s place. He made a show of pointing it out as they took their turn down its street, and Connor was too busy pressing his nose against the glass to tease Hank about it more. 

The restaurant wasn’t anything fancy inside or out. They’d both agreed to keep things casual for the time being since Hank hadn’t dated in a while and Connor… Well, he’d said he’d been in a lull too, but the truth was a lot bleaker than all of that. He hadn’t felt it warranted mentioning—to be perfectly honest, there was a lot about him that probably wouldn’t qualify as ‘first date conversation material.’ If things went well and something… came from all of this, then he’d think a little harder on letting Hank know some of that side of him. For now though, Connor was content to see where things went. 

But while the place wasn’t glitzy, expensive, and glamorous, it made up for it with warmth, atmosphere, and cheer. The dining area wasn’t overly full, but a comfortable crowd was scattered around, all talking and conversing. It gave the space a genial feel, like you could have a conversation and laugh and not be glared at for ruining someone else’s mood. 

It was a place for friends, Connor thought, and it was perfect. 

Hank was the one to talk to the host at the door, and Connor found himself carried along by the general energy as they were ushered to their table a little earlier than their reservation called for. They’d lucked out with a semi-private table near the window. It afforded them the illusion of privacy without sacrificing the loose and airy mood the rest of the place carried with it. 

A candle had been placed in the center of their table. It was a nice touch. It made it feel a little like something out of a movie. 

“Have you ever been here before?” Connor asked Hank once they were both seated with their drink orders in. The menu wasn’t enormous, but the selection looked promising all the same.

Hank shrugged, glancing over his menu. “Once or twice,” he admitted. “It’s been a bit, but looks like most things haven’t changed.”

Connor skimmed over the different selections. He wasn’t a picky eater, so most things looked good. “In that case, have you got any recommendations on what to order?” He peeked over the top of his menu. “I’m so indecisive when it comes to things like this.”

Hank hummed. “Well, I think the steaks always a safe bet,” he hedged, stroking his beard as his eyes skimmed the menu. “I remember them having really good sides here. Good desserts too.” He glanced up. “Do you uh, like sweets?”

Sweets? Connor never made it much of a habit to indulge. “I think so,” he said, thinking back to all the snacks people would bring into the breakroom at work. “Officer Chen’s caramel brownies are one of the few things capable of coaxing me out of the IT basement, so I’d say I’m partial to them.”

Snorting, Hank lowered his menu. “Well, you’re in good company then. Chen’s baking is the glue that keeps our ragtag group of assholes together most days.”

That was certainly true. Connor didn’t go upstairs all that often, but when he did he was usually greeted by at least one argument between the officers. Not many people seemed to get along with Detective Reed, but Officer Chen had it down to a science, de-escalation. A few brownies here and there and everyone would forget their woes. 

The waiter returned to take their orders. Hank ordered a steak and baked potato. Connor followed his lead and ordered the same, exchanging the potato for a salad. Hank teased him about it, but Connor just teased him back about cholesterol. Their sides appeared before they could really get into it though, and they paused to eat. Before long the rest of their dinners arrived.

“You were right,” Connor said after taking his first bite.

Hank looked up from cutting into his steak. “About what?”

“The steak here  _ is  _ good.”

Hank gave a huff of a laugh, the bridge of his nose going pink. “Glad you like it, Connor,” he said, dragging his steak through some steak sauce. He popped the bite into his mouth and hummed as he chewed, clearly enjoying it too. He swallowed, took a sip of pop, and then turned his gaze towards Connor fully. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date that I barely remember how it’s supposed to go,” he admitted after a minute of deliberation. This is when I’m supposed to ask you to tell me about yourself,” Hank figured, fidgeting a little with his silverware. His eyes kept glancing to the side, his body language uncomfortable but not unwelcoming. It’d been awhile, Connor reminded himself. Hank just needed a chance to loosen up before he would begin to enjoy himself. “Where are you from? I heard through the grapevine that you aren’t from Detroit.”

Connor nearly laughed. “No, I’m not from around here,” he said, swirling his water in a clockwise motion. He hadn’t been from anywhere for a very long time now, and to tell the truth would just muddle things all the more. “I’ve traveled a lot. For as long as I can remember, honestly. I’m not really from anywhere. At least, not in any defining way.”

“Cryptic,” Hank remarked, now looking at him fully. “What brought you here then?” 

Again, Connor wanted to laugh. He settled on snorting as he spoke, “A lot of things outside of my control. I heard there were a lot of opportunities in this city, so I figured I’d see what I could manage here and move on if nothing came from it. I think I was just lucky that I managed to land the job I got.”

Hank nodded as if he understood. “It’s not easy these days. IT is a pretty stable field though, right? You think you’re gonna stick around, enjoy Detroit some more?”

Connor smiled. He’d burned so many cities just getting to where he was now, and to his knowledge he hadn’t left much behind him. If that organization was still after him, they hadn’t shown themselves in over two years. He felt… safe in Detroit. Secure. The city was big enough to lose yourself in but still insular enough that he never felt starved for company or community. “I like it here,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “I enjoy what I do and I can’t say I dislike my coworkers.”

Hank snorted. “Well, that’s a glowing review right there.”

“I’ve been in some… bad spaces before,” Connor admitted, setting down his glass. He poked at his salad a little, nudging a crouton around on the plate. “Unhealthy ones. I’ve woken up and looked around and realized that the faces looking back at me weren’t friendly, weren’t kind. That I… wasn’t even a person in their eyes. I don’t expect much in where I am or what I do, but I want to be seen and heard and respected, and I get that here.” Connor smiled softly. “The work may not be glamorous and nine times out of ten its the same thing over and over again, but that’s fine. People are happy to see me when I come in every morning, and I’m happy when I see them too.”

“Damn.” Hank looked at him with something new in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here too, Connor. I’m glad you’ve found a better place to call home.”

“Yeah,” Connor said, smiling sadly at the table. He couldn’t even remember where home used to be at this point. He’d been gone too long, taken so many years ago that time had all blended together and removed most context from his memories. He had a feeling Detroit wasn’t as green as the land where he came from. There was too much steel here, too much technology, but that was fine. He’d gotten used to it, and forgetting one home just meant he could find another without too much hassle or nostalgia getting in the way. He lifted his head and looked at Hank. “Me too.”

From there the conversation morphed to animals. They finished their meals as they discussed them. Back when Connor had still been in Ireland, he’d had his steed. Not a conventional pet by any means, but it gave him something to talk about, and Hank seemed fascinated by the idea of owning a horse at all. 

“Man, every kid on the planet wanted a pony when they were young, but you actually got one,” Hank remarked. “Must’ve been nice.”

“It was,” Connor agreed, silently keeping the reality of it to himself. He’d never been a child in any conventional sense, and he doubted human children wanted a death-steed to pull their death-carriage to the doors of the dying. “But it was so long ago, I barely remember it. What about you? Do you have pets?” Connor knew he did. he’d heard the Lieutenant owned a dog, and as it turned out, Hank  _ loved  _ dogs. Connor smiled and laughed over Hank’s phone, photos of the large St. Bernard taking up a frankly astonishing amount of space on the device. 

“That’s Sumo,” Hank said with a fond sigh. 

“He’s so big,” Connor remarked, absolutely captivated. “He’s like a small bear.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “Yeah, a big ol’ teddy bear. The damn rug couldn’t be intimidating if he tried.”

Connor felt the sudden and urgent need to touch this dog. He smothered it and settled for scrolling through a few more pictures. His thumb froze on a picture of a puppy version of Sumo nestled in the arms of a young boy. Connor furrowed his brow and turned the phone around. “Who’s this?”

All at once, Hank shut down. His expression fell and his mirth faded as if it’d never been there to begin with. “That’s…” He held out his hand and Connor readily gave the phone back to him. Hank turned it around, staring at the picture as if he’d forgotten it was on there. After a few heavy minutes, he simply said, “That’s Cole.”

Connor nodded. He’d never heard anyone talk about Cole in regards to Hank, but he wasn’t an idiot. He could see Hank’s eyes on the boy, the same teases of similarity in how they smiled. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to Hank,” Connor said gently. “We can go back to something else.”

“No, no, it’s…” Hank sighed, closing his phone and putting it back on the table. His food wasn’t completely gone, but he pushed his plate away regardless as if done with it. “Sorry. It’s not really first date kinda talk. I don’t want to be a mood-killer.”

Connor didn’t say it, but he had a feeling no matter what conversational choice they made from this point on, the mood was probably already shot. “I don’t mind talking through it,” he said, earnest as he could make it. “If it’s important to you, we can talk about it.”

Hank rubbed at his eyes. “It’s just… stupid. I don’t even know why it still hits this hard. It happened so long ago…”

Connor waited patiently. Just as he thought, Hank sighed and went on. 

“He’s my son— was. He passed away. Car accident.” His voice went tight on the last few words. He rubbed at his eyes harder and let out a shuddery breath. “Sorry. I got Sumo for Cole. He’d always wanted a puppy.”

“Not a pony?”

Hank lowered his hand and cracked a watery smile. “Nah, Cole wasn’t a horse kid. Though, you wouldn’t know it given how badly he seemed to want to ride Sumo around. It was a hell of a conversation to give a kid, telling him just because the dog was bigger than him didn’t mean he could ride it.”

“He sounds like a great kid.”

Hank exhaled slowly. “He was. The best.” He met Connor’s eyes for a moment, then looked away. “I didn’t… handle it well, when it happened. It’s fucking embarrassing in retrospect. My ex was so much more graceful about it all, but I just… hit rock bottom for a while. I still struggle, and it’s been  _ years.”  _

Connor covered Hank’s hand with his own. He looked into his eyes and squeezed. “Death is one of those realities that no one ever feels ready to confront. It doesn’t matter if it happens tomorrow or eighty years from now; a parent will never be ready to handle it gracefully when a child moves on before them.” He’d seen it too many times to count. Illness or accident, sudden or drawn out— a parent could see the writing on the wall and never accept it any better than the ones who had no warning at all. He’d never grown comfortable with the death he harkened back then, but he’d learned to accept it after a time. There was no cheating it, no fighting it or outrunning it. There was just coping. Just learning to grow used to it because the alternative was too terrible to contemplate. “You did what you could, Hank. No one can blame you for that.”

Hank stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted. His hand twitched under Connor’s but didn’t try to pull away. Connor tried to put a name to the emotion flickering behind Hank’s eyes. Maybe he hadn’t been around enough people just yet, or maybe human emotion was different than his own… He couldn’t figure it out. Hank seemed sad, but also somehow… happy. 

“That’s—” Hank paused when his voice came out hoarse. He closed his eyes and stole back his hand to rub at them, clearing his throat loudly. “That’s kind of you to say,” he managed once his hands were back on the table. “I don’t think… No one ever said that to me. They just stared and judged and told me to be stronger, but…” His voice faltered again. Connor nodded in understanding and covered Hank’s hand once more. 

“You’ve done your best, Hank,” he said, giving his hand a warm squeeze. “That’s all you can ever give.”

Hank’s smile had gone watery. “Yeah,” he said, voice a little shaky. “God, this is heavy first date stuff, isn’t it? Here I am making an ass out of myself. Let’s change the subject before it gets any worse. What’s the opposite of death? Let’s talk about that instead.”

Connor laughed. It probably said something about him that he had no issue continuing the discussion they were already having. Death was something he was comfortable with. Something he’d been born to walk hand-in-hand with. Grief didn’t scare him and Hank’s wasn’t so heavy that he couldn’t lend some strength to help shoulder it too. But that was fine, he supposed. “What would you like to talk about instead?”

Hank sighed out a heavy breath, smiling through his relief. He glanced down at their joined hands and ran the pad of his thumb over Connor’s knuckles. “I dunno,” he admitted, giving Connor a heartfelt look. “Do you like music?”

As it turned out, Hank was more than shocked by Connor’s admittal that he hadn’t really listened to much that the rest of the dinner was spent discussing all the bands he was missing out on. Hank liked death metal, a genre Connor found more than ironic, and had no lack of suggestions and recommendations to make. The way he talked about it, the way he moved his hands and crinkled his eyes… It made Connor melt a little inside. 

“I’ll have to bring you some CDs to listen to,” Hank remarked as dessert arrived at their table. It was a thick slice of cake, big enough to share.

“I’d like that,” Connor answered as he picked up his fork. The cake was so sweet and rich, and Hank’s hum of pleasure was just as potent. It remained as they finished dessert, and then through the whole ride home. Silences fell here and there, but they weren’t heavy or uncomfortable. When Connor glanced Hank’s way during the drive, Hank would sometimes catch him looking. He’d smile, and Hank would smile back. 

The drive home took no time at all. Connor got out of the car and Hank followed suit. They met at the front of the car, standing on the sidewalk outside of Connor’s building. Connor had seen in movies how dates usually ended. He didn’t have many expectations in mind though. He’d had a good time, but they had agreed to take this slow after all. 

“This—” 

“I—”

Both of them stopped, cutting themselves off as they grinned. Connor chuckled and waved in Hank’s direction. “You first,” he said, crossing his arms loosely in front of himself. It wasn’t quite fall yet, but the evenings were getting chillier by the day. “What were you going to say?”

Hank, despite clearly having intended to say something, looked sheepish all of a sudden. “I just… Well, I’ve just been thinking. About what you said before… about me doing what I could…”

Connor smiled at Hank, dipping his head. “What about it?”

Hank stared at him. “No one’s ever said that to me before,” he said, voice a little tight. “Or, they’d say it but I could always tell they weren’t serious. That they just… judged me on how I handled things. I lost a lot more than Cole during all of that and I— I guess what I wanted to say is just…”

Connor cocked his head a little, waiting patiently for Hank to find the words. Death was such a heavy topic for humans. He’d noticed it almost immediately when he joined the workforce, and when working with the police, death wasn't that far off. He could feel it sometimes too, the sticky haze of inevitability hovering over certain officers right before they were called off to handle shootings or domestic abuse calls. Sometimes… it meant nothing. Other times, Connor remembered his old job. His first one. 

He blinked when Hank said something under his breath, then opened his eyes wide when the man stepped into his space and snagged him by the shoulders. Connor’s mouth parted in a gasp against Hank’s. A… kiss?! He was being kissed! By Hank!

Connor had no grounds for comparisons when it came to things like this. This was his first foray into the dating pool after all, and he’d made himself enter it without any expectations. He knew from movies that it was somewhat traditional to get a kiss after the first date, a sort of good-night ritual that signalled if a date when well or not… The movies hadn’t made it clear how he was supposed to reciprocate. Connor closed his eyes and leaned into it, a shiver rolling down his spine when Hank cradled his face in his warm, big hands. Hank’s beard was a nice rasp against his chin and lips, his breath hot, wet, and… nice. It was all very, very nice—

And then it was over, because Hank was pulling away. 

Connor listed forward, a soft sound leaving his mouth before he could swallow it back down. He opened his eyes and looked up at Hank. Hank, whose face was an almost violent red, eyes wide and averted. His breathing was a little heavy too, which Connor could understand. All of that took his away too. 

“Hank?” Connor croaked. 

“That was… I’m—” Hank grimaced and finally looked at Connor. “Sorry. If that was too forward—”

“It wasn’t,” Connor interjected. It wasn’t too forward at all. 

“Good. That’s— good.”

A heavy silence fell between them. Connor cleared his throat and twisted at the bow of his ribbon. “Does this mean… you had a good time with me?” 

Hank laughed, the sound almost startled out of him. He covered his ruddy cheeks with his hand and dragged it down his face. “Yeah,” he said, looking at Connor fondly. “I had a really good time with you, Connor. You wanna do it again sometime?”

Connor beamed. He couldn’t say yes fast enough. Hank laughed at him, but that was fine. Connor was laughing too. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work then,” Hank said as he opened the door of his car. “And maybe we can get lunch…?”

“Sounds wonderful, Hank.” Because it did. It really, really did. 

“See you then,” Hank smiled. It made him look so much younger when he smiled. 

“See you then,” Connor returned, and he watched until Hank’s tail lights disappeared into the darkness down the street. And as Connor turned to leave, as he walked towards his front door, he let his fingers drift to his lips. He smiled. 

Maybe “being normal” was something he could manage after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're a bit late for valentine's day but that's okay, as you'll soon find out. enjoy! shout out to gildedfrost for making this series possible! your brain child is taking off and -wipes tear- im so proud.

Working in the dark bowels of the DPD had its perks if you knew where to look for them. It was quiet, for one, lacking the sort of traffic and hubbub the main bullpen played host to nearly every single day. The buzzing of the mainframes and harddrives was almost therapeutic, soothing in a way white noise always was. It was peaceful if only a little lonely. Calm. Safe.

Connor leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head, eyes only burning a little from the glare of his desktop screen. Reconfiguring another database had eaten up most of his morning and it still felt as if there were miles to go yet before he could truly call the project done. He sighed quietly and kneaded at his dry eyes. “Come on, you can do it,” he mumbled to himself, the walls of his sparsely decorated cubicle the only audience to his rapidly depleting motivation. “Just one more good burst of productivity. Then you’ll be done.”

Which was a lie of course. After he finished this database he’d have to move onto the next, and then the one after that. The neat, tidy little calendar loomed over him on the whiteboard against the wall, each bullet-pointed task line jeering at him that his work was far from over. Connor had glared at that whiteboard for the better part of the morning too, determining it to be the biggest adversary he’d ever faced in his long, long life. Why had he gone along in the meeting to schedule so much for today? For today of all days?

Connor let his hands drag down his face and fall into his lap with a dull thud. His chair squeaked slightly as he pivoted around, eyes tracing the whiteboard, running through the square blocks that marked the days until he stopped on today. Friday. So much to do on a  _ Friday  _ of all days, but the small little number in the corner was what really rubbed salt into the open wound. February 14th. Valentine’s Day. 

The logic of it had been that since the day fell on a Friday, most—if not all—would be celebrating the most romantic day of the year after work. Dinners, movies, date nights, romantic getaways for the weekend— the whole meeting had been abuzz with talk of how everyone planned to spend their time. A few had even decided to take off Friday entirely, just to get a jump on their plans early. In theory it had sounded like a good idea, but in practice…

Connor let out a sigh and tipped back in his chair, neck bent oddly over the seat rest as he stared up at the ceiling. He never would have sat in a position like this a few decades ago, too afraid of what might happen if he got the angle wrong and found his head toppling off his neck and onto the floor, but now? Now he couldn’t care less. 

Two I.T. specialists (one full time, one contract worker) out meant the whole project timeline depended on Connor, the only full timer in today, and two part-timers who weren’t allowed to work overtime. No one had bothered to ask what Connor had planned for Valentine’s day; they’d decided it for him the moment they figured they’d leave early for the weekend. 

The next sigh came out as a groan, one Connor was annoyed wouldn’t be heard by the coworkers who were already long gone, off celebrating with their loved ones and enjoying themselves in a way Connor probably never would. He’d never been with someone on Valentine’s before. What he had with Hank was getting serious, and here he was, unable to act on it in a way that mattered. The entire concept was foreign to him, but living around humans for so long had rendered him a romantic. The chocolates, the flowers, the heart-pounding candle-lit dinners where two people would stare into one another’s eyes and pledge themselves to one another— 

Connor pitched forward and buried his face in his hands, his arms propped up by his desk and narrowly avoiding his keyboard. Was it too much to ask for a day like that? Just one dose of normality so he could feel like everyone else?

His computer beeped at him. Connor peeked through his fingers and glared at the numbers and lines of code on the screen. The preliminary test on this section had gone through without a hitch. If there weren’t dozens left to go, he might have felt some measure of pride at the successful batch test. But that was the case, so he didn’t. He didn’t at all. Gods. 

Things were so much easier before electricity. Before all this… this coding nonsense. Sure, Connor knew the benefits of it. He’d learned all about how it made the world go round, how it made people’s lives easier and more efficient, but by the gods if he didn’t still hate it. Sometimes. When it was inconveniencing him and his plans. 

Heh. Maybe that was a human sentiment too. Optimism wasn’t usually so hard to come by, so he supposed he could take what little he could wring out of the situation where he could get it.

“Alright,” he muttered, forcing himself to sit upright in his seat. He looked at the lines of code on the screen and down at the notebook by his elbow outlining the next section he needed to do. “Whining won’t get you anywhere, Connor. The time for whining is over. Time to do this. Time to… slog through another few lines.” Not the greatest pep talk he’d ever given himself, but the bar was low right now. Deathly low. 

But that was fine. Everything was fine. The more he told himself that, the more likely it was that he’d begin to believe it. Connor let his fingers find home row, the way ahead manifesting as he started in on the next bout of programming. He’d taught himself to code, found the knack for it when presented with computers and technology back in the facility. His magic could interact with it in a way he’d never seen before, but not in any way that would help him now. Still, Connor felt the tingle in his fingertips as he typed. Faster. Faster. The faster he went, the sooner he’d be done, the sooner he could leave and go do something more fun, more right, with Hank. 

Connor’s stomach began to growl. He worked through it, frowning as his finger slipped and fumbled a keystroke. There was no time for lunch. Hell, he’d be lucky if he took a lunch break at dinner time given how much work there was left to do. Taking that hour and putting it towards work would save him an hour down the road. He narrowed his eyes, typing faster. Yeah, he’d get this done sooner if he kept at it. Find the groove, fall into habit, let reflex and intuition do the thinking for him. 

Something knocked on the wall behind him. Connor perked up but didn’t let it ruin his rhythm. Curiosity nagged at him though. He didn’t have a door. People didn’t tend to knock. “Yeah?” he called out, eyes still trailing the line of code as his fingers skimmed across the keyboard. Probably one of the part-timers with a question. “What do you need?” They were both competent, skilled at what they did, but this system was finicky and Connor wasn’t the most conventional when it came to writing up guidance notes. He’d probably confused one of them again. Just his luck. 

A low, humored laugh sounded, one that sent a shiver down Connor’s spine. His fingers froze as a familiar voice replied, “My boyfriend to get off his computer for a second and give me some attention.”

Unfinished line of code be damned, Connor twisted around in his chair and gaped. “Wh— Hank!” Connor shot out of his seat and met the man at the door to his cubicle. Elation warred it out with shock, morphing into something strange and excited. “What are you doing down here? Don’t you have a case you’re working on?”

Hank shrugged and shot him a grin. “It can wait an hour. Today’s a special occasion.” 

It was then that Connor looked down and saw that Hank hadn’t arrived empty-handed. Both hands were fully, actually, and Connor felt his mouth fall open, his heart hammering away in his chest as he whispered, “Did you bring me lunch, Hank?”

“Well, I bought  _ us  _ lunch,” the Lieutenant corrected, sidling past Connor to enter his small cubicle office properly. He lifted the big paper bags and set them on the only clear spot in the room. The spot just so happened to be Connor’s desk chair. “Italian, since that’s romantic and all. I thought about springing for French but realized I’d probably fuck up and order us both snails or something, and that’s the least romantic thing I can think of to feed someone on Valentine’s Day.”

Connor said nothing. He couldn’t quite find the will to open his mouth. Hank carried on, undeterred, and began pulling out containers, gently pushing some of Connor’s notebook towers aside so he could set the food on the desk. “Sorry for just dropping by on you like this too, by the way,” he said as he unloaded. “I know you said you probably couldn’t go out tonight and I definitely shouldn’t, given that serial homicide we’re all knee-deep in upstairs, but I couldn’t help but want to surprise you anyway. I figure we all have lunch breaks though, right?”

At that, Hank swiveled his head around and fixed Connor with a big, enthusiastic smile. It fell as soon as he caught whatever expression Connor had on his face though. Raised brows lowered into a concerned, confused frown. “Is uh… everything alright, Con?”

Connor’s heart pounded harder, louder. His face grew hot. This was too much. Hank was too considerate, and he couldn’t even accept it. This was romantic, right? A surprise lunch, a touch of romance in the middle of a drab, dull day. Connor licked his lips and found that he couldn’t look away from the ground. “Hank…”

Hank took a few steps closer. “Connor?” he tried, voice low and soft. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

Gods. Now he was worried about him too. “Sorry, sorry.” Connor winced and covered his face with a hand. A wave of dread rolled over him, one that was so strong it threatened to topple him over and bury him completely. “I just… It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, Hank. I do, it’s just—” 

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Hank’s voice interjected, a pair of heavy hands coming up to settle on Connor’s shoulders. They grounded him, kept him from going under. “It’s okay. Is there something going on? I know I don’t usually come down here, but if this is a bad time—”

Connor dropped his hand. “It’s not. But it is. A bad time, I mean. We’re just really understaffed down here right now and it’s got me a little frazzled.” He looked over at the whiteboard and didn’t bother to hide his grimace. “A lot of people asked off today. It’s just me and some part-timers and we have to get through the entire project load before we can call it a night.”

Understanding visibly rolled over Hank. “Ah,” he said, blinking at Connor and then the board. “They’ve got you guys spread pretty thin, huh.” 

“That’s putting it lightly,” Connor mumbled, crossing his arms loosely in front of his chest. Connor knew a little something about doing the impossible. He’d been bent and torn beyond his means time and time again in the years he’d spent locked up in that facility, but somehow none of that seemed to compare to the constant strain of mismanagement coupled with chronic understaffing. Deadlines weren’t arbitrary things that came and went easily. They were vicious battles that had to be won through tooth and nail, bloodshed expected and very rarely avoided. “I don’t know how we’re going to get it all done today.”

Hank narrowed his eyes as he scanned the whiteboard. He scratched his head, obviously struggling to parse out the tech-slang. “And it can’t wait until Monday?”

“Not if you want your storage databases to be accessible over the weekend.” 

“Ah. Yeah. That’d probably make things kinda difficult.” Hank rubbed the back of his neck, his previously peppy mood bleeding into something sheepish. “Is that what that system update email this morning was about?”

Connor sighed. He’d nearly forgotten about that. “They plan on having everything offline and changing over between midnight and three tonight.” Which meant Connor had until precisely 11:59 to finish things. “I probably won’t be getting home until after that…” And then he’d be up at five just to make sure everything transferred without a hitch, barring any phone calls before that complaining about server hiccups and the like.

Hank let out a low whistle. “Jesus.” He glanced over at the pile of food on Connor’s desk. The scent of garlic and herbs had filled the cubicle, enticing and demoralizing all at once. “So, probably not a good time for a romantic surprise lunch then, is it?”

Connor’s throat constricted painfully. He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty—this wasn’t his fault and Hank didn’t know—but the thought of Hank being so excited, so caring that he’d still tried for something despite their schedule conflicts and he  _ still  _ couldn’t accept it was… was just…

Hank looked disappointed. It curdled the acid in Connor’s stomach, any flare of hunger stamped down by the overwhelming waves of guilt cascading through him. Could he spare an hour for lunch? He knew he could be greedy, take the break the others wouldn’t get and then increase his own workload for the evening, make everything harder than it needed to be just for a few spare moments of happiness, but Connor also knew himself. He’d be too focused on the work he wasn’t doing to enjoy it. Hank would notice, Connor would feel even guiltier, and all that would get accomplished was wasting an hour to fret on the work he’d put on the back burner. 

“I’m sorry,” Connor heard himself say, his voice quiet, tight, and so very small. His mouth felt dry while his eyes stung, his heart hammering with a sickening sort of anxiety that he hadn’t felt this strong in a long, long time. “I should have called you so you wouldn’t have wasted your time like this.” And Hank had wasted it. His time, his money, his own lunch break that by all rights should go towards bolstering his own energy reserves for the difficult casework piled high on his desk upstairs. And wasn’t that just so much worse? Connor worked in I.T. Hank solved  _ murders.  _ If Hank had felt he could spare an hour to do something like this, then why couldn’t Connor make himself feel the same?

Without his permission, his breath began to come faster. He tightened his grip on his arms and held himself as he stared at the floor. Hank said something but the words couldn’t quite seem to penetrate the roar of wind rushing past Connor’s ears. Such a stupid, small thing. A drop in the bucket for someone as long-lived as he was, and yet…

And yet. 

“Connor?” 

The way Hank called his name was sharp without being loud. Connor opened his eyes and lifted his head. Concern filled Hank’s blue eyes, his worry evident and plain for all to see. “Hey, talk to me,” he said, bringing his hands up to rest on Connor’s shoulders. “What’s going on? You feeling alright?”

Connor couldn’t make himself speak. Not yet. He shook his head slightly and tried for a deep breath that didn’t quite manage to fill his lungs. Hank kept talking. Connor just tried to listen, to focus on the sound of his voice as it rolled over him. 

“It’s okay, Con,” he kept saying, slow and soothing, his hands grounding Connor as he slowly guided him into his desk chair. “I think you’re stressed. Anxiety. Just focus on breathing for me, okay? Can you do that? In, out. Just like that.”

Connor tried to nod. Hank’s hands were on his cheeks now, petting him, soothing him. For one strange moment Connor felt the weirdest sensation of dissonance. He’d soothed his skittish horse like this before, back when he was still among the green fields and rolling hills of his homeland. He focused on the memory, letting it fill his senses with the scent of a place he hadn’t seen in more years than he cared to recall. Life had been so simple back then. Just his horse, his brothers, his calling. 

He missed it, he realized quite suddenly. He missed the simplicity of it when awash with these deadlines and impossible tasks. He missed being able to be himself and how he had never felt the need to hide. Connor leaned into Hank’s touch and wished, so strongly that it scared him a little, that he didn’t have to hide anything from the man in front of him. He wanted to be with Hank all the time. He wanted to be himself with him, not this role he’d been forced to play to keep his head firmly attached to his neck. 

And this was his first Valentine’s Day. His first time with a partner who cared about him, and here he was, unable to tell him the truth, unable to celebrate the way everyone else seemed to be doing. 

Life was unfair, Connor realized. Truly, and absolutely, unfair. 

“Con? Can you look at me?”

Connor hadn’t even realized that he’d dropped his gaze. He lifted his chin with effort and met Hank’s eyes. His lips were dry. Connor licked them, forcing his nerves to settle enough to get out a soft, “Hank?”

“That’s right. It’s just me. You know I’ve got you, right? You’re safe and I’m here with you.” Hank’s hand was warm and heavy on the back of his neck, his fingers digging in subtly to massage away the tension making him stiff. Connor couldn’t help but close his eyes, a low sigh pushing past his lips as he was forced to relax. “There we go,” Hank’s low, soothing voice murmured. “Let it out. It’s okay. Just breathe.” 

Easier said than done. His lungs protested it, burned as he forced himself to suck in a breath and let it out slowly. Gods, it had been awhile since he’d last had a fit like this. The anxiety was almost painful, his embarrassment and shame coming in a close second. “I just…” Connor cracked open his eyes and looked into Hank’s. There were no flecks of judgement in his eyes though, just concern, worry. Connor swallowed and croaked, “I just wanted everything to be perfect, but the entire universe is conspiring against me.”

Hank let out a low sound. He pulled Connor into a hug, big, warm hands running down his back to soothe away the ache in his chest. “That’s just life sometimes, Con. Sometimes things don’t go the way we want them to and we just gotta deal the best we can.” 

“You deserve better,” Connor said, words muffled in Hank’s shoulder. “You mean so much to me.”

The hands on his back moved to his shoulders, separating them just enough so Hank could look him in the eye. “It’s not like we didn’t get to see each other or anything, Con. Shit happens. Today just didn’t work in either of our favors, but that’s okay.” Hank tried for a smile that Connor found the tiniest bit infectious. “I’m here though, and I’m not gonna cry if we don’t do something really romantic on Valentine’s Day.”

Connor’s eyes widened a little. “Really?” 

Hank was quick to reassure him, nodding his head as he said, “Of course, Connor. It’s just a normal day when you think about it. We can always reschedule it whenever we want.” He snorted a little then, letting his hand fall from Connor’s neck to his shoulder, then down his arm. “Hell, it’s probably smarter to reschedule. Do you know how hard it is to get a reservation today? Some people book months in advance. It’s really not all it’s cracked up to be. There are definitely better ways to show someone you care. We can definitely do something just as exciting some other time. So, don’t fixate on it too much, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

They were talking about different things. That was Connor’s fault for not being brave enough to tell the truth. But it was fine. Hank was trying, and he wasn’t wrong. Connor had never really thought about that. It made sense though. He’d heard his coworkers talk about it, in between bouts of bragging about their weekend plans. All the money they had spent to get their dinners and outings for the 14th, the favors they’d pulled to get today of all days off. He’d written it up to more bragging, to them just flaunting the thought and care they had put into their plans, but now…

“If you’re stressed out about this project, it’s probably best you focus on it and stop worrying about me.” Hank squeezed Connor’s arms, dragging his hands down until they were holding hands. “We can see about doing something next weekend together.”

Connor slowly stood up from the chair. “Wait… really?” Even if it wasn’t a fix for the crux of his issues, it was something. Hank was trying, and he seemed determined to make things better no matter what. Warmth blossomed in Connor’s chest at the thought. 

Hank nodded. “Yes, really. There’s not some hard and fast rule that you can only celebrate the day of. Hell, I’m sure we could have more freedom to do what we want some other day. Less lines, less hassle, no competition to take off time if we feel like going that route. How does that sound?”

It sounded great. Better than great. Connor squeezed Hank’s hands and wondered briefly how he’d gone so long without someone like this in his life. Someone who cared. Someone who actually gave a damn how he felt and wanted to make things better. Someone who might… might stay with him if he knew what he truly was. Who wouldn’t be afraid or disgusted or horrified. Connor looked down at Hank’s strong, calloused hands. Someone who didn’t mind putting his own enjoyment aside so long as it meant Connor had some peace of mind. 

Someone like Hank. Like the man who brought him lunch they couldn’t even share together on a dumb couple’s holiday just because he wanted to see him no matter what. 

“That sounds great, Hank,” he said, absolutely meaning it. He cared about Hank. Trusted him, but some secrets needed their time before they could come out of the darkness. Connor smiled and let go of Hank’s hands. “I’d love that.” And he wouldn’t mind waiting until the right moment came about to tell him. Hank would wait for him, of that he was absolutely sure. 

“Well, good. I’m glad.” Hank smiled, patting Connor’s cheek with the palm of his warm, large hand. “Gives us some time to plan too. Hell, maybe you can think about it while you’re slogging through this project, yeah? Use it as motivation or a silver lining or something.” 

Connor brightened at the prospect. There were so many options to choose from. They could maybe go somewhere together. A vacation like the ones all his coworkers were on. Somewhere romantic and quiet, just the two of them… It couldn’t be too far from the city or too expensive, and Hank hadn’t said anything about using vacation days to extend it to anything more than a weekend outing, but either way, Connor liked the sound of it more than he wanted to admit. They had never gone on a trip together yet. It would probably be a big push for their relationship, a move to the next level. He’d never been with a person this long before. The excitement was at war with nervous energy in the pit of his fluttering stomach. 

“I think you single-handedly saved me from falling into a pit of despair,” Connor admitted, rubbing at his eyes as he chuckled. “How did you know daydreaming about romantic getaways was one of my favorite pastimes?”

“Guess I just know you better than you think,” Hank said smugly, puffing his chest a little as he looked towards the desk once more. “Hell, I even sprung for the extra alfredo sauce for you.”

“For the breadsticks?” Connor guessed, his smile growing so wide that it stung his cheeks. “I only did that once in front of you.”

“And like most things you do, it left an impression.” Hank let out a sigh and swore quietly under his breath. “Guess I’ll take this upstairs then and put it in the breakroom for the vultures to take care of.”

Connor frowned. “You don’t want it?”

Hank shook his head. “Not really in the mood for fancy Italian if we’re not gonna share it together. I’ll just call it my gift to the office and get us something nicer next weekend. You want anything out of this before I take it back upstairs though? You should probably still eat something while you work even if you can’t stop for a proper meal.”

That was probably true. Connor flushed a little and surveyed the assorted containers spread out on his desk. “Yeah,” he mumbled, eyeing the breadsticks in particular. He could eat those one-handed and probably still manage to get some work done while he did it. “You went to all the trouble of getting my alfredo sauce, so I’d be an ingrate if I didn’t at least appreciate it fully.”

“Somehow I knew you’d say that.” Hank reached for the small cup of sauce. The moment his fingers touched it, his mirth morphed into a frown. “Dammit,” he swore under his breath. “That fucking figures.”

“What is it?” Connor asked, already taking the container from Hank. But Hank didn’t need to say anything. The problem was obvious; The food had gone cold. 

“Sorry,” Hank said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess we spent a little too long talking. I can run this upstairs to the microwave for you. It’d only take a few minutes.”

Connor closed his eyes and let out a smooth, careful breath. It probably would only take a few minutes to do something like that, but he found he didn’t want Hank to keep putting himself out. Not when there were faster alternatives, ones that were… unconventional, fool-hardy even, but better. “I think it’s still fine,” he said, opening his eyes once his fingertips had stopped tingling. The air had a bit of a charge to it now, one that he could see Hank felt more than understood. Connor lifted the container and pressed it into Hank’s hand. “See?” Breaking the rules for Hank never felt like a transgression; it only ever felt right. 

Hank grabbed the container and then almost dropped it. “Ow!” he hissed, juggling it between his hands before finding a place to set it down. “How did this— Why is it so hot now?”

The truth tingled on the tip of Connor’s tongue, a spell all its own but with so many more ramifications. He stared at the new steam collecting on the inside of the containers. He trusted Hank. He wanted Hank to be happy, and… 

And Connor just shrugged, smiling weakly as he shook his head. “No idea,” he said quietly, stepping forward into Hank’s space. The man’s fumbling slowed, his breath catching audibly in his throat, and Connor wound his arms around Hank’s chest and rested his head against his strong shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, Hank,” he whispered, closing his eyes when a pair of arms encircled him too. “Thank you.”

Today wasn’t perfect by any means, and the truth wasn’t on the horizon just yet. But right now, with Hank’s arms around him and the prospect of a romantic trip to look forward to… 

Perfection wasn’t the be-all-end-all of a good Valentine’s day, but whatever this feeling was came pretty damn close anyway. 


	3. Chapter 3

Dating Connor was easy. Not because he was especially laid back or low maintenance—Hank had firsthand experience with just how anxious Connor could get when things didn’t go his way, not that he had any room to talk—but because he was easy to be around. There was no drama with Connor, no deep baggage or landmines waiting to be stepped on. He was a friendly man with simple hobbies, and his easy way of navigating life brought Hank some much needed stability. Dating him was a simple thing, like taking a walk on a nice spring day. 

He made Hank feel good about himself. He made him want to try harder to be a better man. Every day Hank went into work and saw Connor bent over a computer monitor, glasses glinting in the blue light and lips pursed as he sussed out a problem. Every day he got to witness the exact moment Connor noticed he had arrived and the sheer joy that knowledge brought him. Those brilliant smiles gave the shittiest day a much needed dose of goodness. 

Of course, Hank wasn’t quite as sure how to feel about seeing one of them directed at him through the driver’s side window of his unmarked surveillance car. 

The perp in question hadn’t shown his face yet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to. Hank had been primed and waiting for over five hours now, legs cramped in the tiny sedan, posture slumped as he tried to look nondescript while loitering outside of a suspected drug manufacturing lab. Connor, in his tidy little polo shirt and pressed jeans, screamed out of place. Hank swore a little as he rolled down the window and glared at his boyfriend. 

He had a feeling he knew which of his fellow detectives informed Connor of his whereabouts, and he was already imagining the asskicking he’d give Reed the second he made it back to the precinct. 

“What do you think you’re doing here?” Hank hissed through clenched teeth, one eye on Connor and the other on the front of the building. “This is a dangerous area! Go back to the precinct, now!”

Instead of being cowed, Connor just smiled a little brighter. “Well, hello to you too, Hank.”

Hank rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. “Hello, Connor. Goodbye, Connor. Go before you get hurt.”

“I think we both know there’s nothing around here for miles,” Connor reasoned, and dammit, he’d been listening to Reed’s complaining too. The whole team had been questioning if this really was the location of Detroit’s latest designer drug lab or not, and the consensus hadn’t been promising. Hank had drawn the short straw in covering all their bases. Five hours of no activity didn’t exactly prove it was a bust, but even Hank had started to have his doubts. Connor looked past Hank and eyed the passenger side seat. “Can I join you for a while? The servers went down so they gave me the afternoon off. I figured we could make it a date.”

God. Hank didn’t want to be the one to explain to his boyfriend that semi-active stakeouts were not good date locations. He covered his face with a hand and kneaded at his eyes. “Connor, you’re not supposed to be here.” The professional in him knew it was a bad idea even if the bored, lonely asshole in him was all too interested in having some alone time with a cute date.

Instead of answering, Connor stayed silent. Hank dropped his hand and realized why. Connor was in the middle of doing that thing where he pursed his lips and made his eyes really big and brown. The power of his pout was devastating. He held up a brown paper sack near his head like a bribe. “You get to take a lunch break even if you’re on a stakeout, Hank,” he chided, the pout cracking as he fought back a smile. “C’mon. I won’t tell anyone. I made your favorite.”

Hank’s traitorous stomach let out a growl. “You didn’t,” he hissed, hand already reaching for the unlock button. 

Devil with an angel’s face that he was, Connor grinned. “Oh, I did,” he said, voice low and seductive. “Meatball and marinara with extra provolone and mozzarella. Thick Italian bread. Footlong.” 

Hank full on groaned at the thought. Connor had done this before, but then they had been at his house. A simple suggestion of ordering delivery had been met with curious confusion.  _ Why order it when you can just make it yourself?  _ Connor had said. Hank had told him there was no way he could make a sub better than DeAngelo’s— and Connor had promptly proved him wrong, right then and there. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Hank swore, the car door unlocking with a loud click. 

Connor just grinned wider and tore around the side of the car to let himself in the passenger side. He closed the door behind him and teasingly held out the bag. “That’s no way to talk to someone who made you lunch,” he chastised, but he still laughed when Hank yanked the bag out of his hand and cradled it to his chest.

For God’s sake, it was still  _ warm.  _

Hank had to tell himself firmly that the first time he told Connor he loved him wouldn’t be in regards to a sandwich, even an expertly crafted, moist, delicious one like this. He swallowed down the words and gave Connor a look that he hoped articulated the devotion and adoration he felt in that moment, and then he tore open the back and groaned as the scent of it washed over him in a hot, steamy wave. “Nevermind,” Hank muttered, pulling out the sliced footlong from its bag. “Stay as long as you want. Live here actually. Do anything you want so long as you keep bringing me this to eat.”

“You’re an easy man to please, Hank,” Connor teased, settling without further delay. He brought his knees under him and sat sideways in the seat, angling himself towards Hank to watch him tear into the sandwich with gusto. “But seriously, if you need me to go just let me know and I’ll head out. I wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble by having me here.”

Hank waved him off, tastebuds singing at the first bite of perfection. He had a feeling Connor made the bread too and not just the filling. When did he even have time to do all of this? Sometimes it felt like Connor didn’t operate under the same rules as everybody else. He was too perfect, too cool, too calm, too  _ nice  _ to have suffered through the same daily hardships as everyone else. Hank swallowed and resisted the urge to moan. Keep it together, he told himself. It was just a sandwich, and he definitely had an intent audience.

“It’s fine,” he said, eyeing the way the cheese oozed and coated the homemade meatballs. “We figured this location probably wasn’t the one we’re after anyway. I’ve been out here for five hours so far and I’ve seen nothing to change that assumption.” He took another bite and pressed it between his cheek and teeth so he could keep talking. “It’s probably a good thing you showed up to be honest. I might have fallen asleep if I had to keep staring at that warehouse for much longer.” 

“So this is just me doing my civic duty then,” Connor laughed. He laced his fingers and wrapped them around his crooked knee, his head turning to assess the warehouse himself. “It had to be lonely too, sitting out here all alone. Almost like being trapped.”

Shrugging, Hank supposed that wasn’t too far off, though he wouldn’t really say it in those words himself. Stakeouts and boring shifts like this were just part of the job. He’d grown used to them over the years and tended to find some solace in the idea of nothing being good news. If he sat on his ass and watched paint dry for a day, it meant a day of no one making dope behind that wall and selling it to kids down the street. Of course, it also meant there was some other wall out there hiding the dope and criminals and assholes looking for ways to make a cheap buck, but it was easier to pretend this way. 

Hank was getting a little too old for excitement anymore, so he cherished the quiet moments while they lasted.

“It’s not all bad,” he said after another delicious mouthful. “Gives a man time to think.”

Connor cocked his head curiously. An almost nervous smile flitted over his pale face. “What do you think about?” he asked, shifting in his seat, long, pale fingers dancing in a rhythmic staccato over his knee. “Do you think about… work?”

He was leading him somewhere. Hank had been in a room with perps enough to recognize the signs. “Sometimes,” he said easily, curious and humored and more than eager to see where this was headed. “Sometimes I think about home too.”

“Home?”

“I wonder if Sumo is drooling all over my pillow in protest of me leaving him home alone again.”

Connor laughed, a bright, punched-out little thing that told Hank he hadn’t been expecting that. God, Connor was cute. Cute when laughed, cute when he was kind, and definitely cute when he tried to be sneaky. 

“Why?” Hank asked, applying pressure once he knew he had Connor warmed up. “What kinds of things did you think I’d be thinking about?”

The pink in Connor’s cheeks was slow to abate. He brought a hand to his face and brushed some hair away from his eyes. He avoided Hank’s gaze and shrugged a single shoulder. “Oh, you know,” he said, putting on a dismissive tone that was anything but. “Just things. Our trip maybe. Future plans.”

Ah. The trip. Hank smiled secretly around his mouthful of sandwich. After the whole Valentine’s Day mess he’d leapt into preparations full force. He had a good handle on Connor’s likes and dislikes at this point, and the dose of romance in him made him think a surprise getaway would go over well. He’d already reserved a cabin for them near the lakes. It would be too cold yet for swimming but the cabin he’d opted for had a hot tub, and he didn’t need too active an imagination to think up some ideas for how they could spend the time off. 

“Hank?”

Hank swallowed his mouthful and made a show of wiping his mouth. He gave Connor what he hoped was an innocent enough shrug. “Haven’t thought too much about it yet,” he lied smoothly. “I’ve had a lot on my mind with this case.”

“Of course,” Connor said, understanding completely because he was a good person who didn’t blame people for much of anything, especially if circumstances were out of their control. “Let me know when you’re able to talk about it. I’m… really excited to go on a trip with you,” he said, his hand reaching over the center console to squeeze Hank’s thigh gently. A pink blush tinted Connor’s high cheekbones. “It sounds like a lot of fun after the craziness this week has been.”

And boy, if that wasn’t the gospel truth. Hank set down the sandwich and covered Connor’s hand with his own. He gave it a squeeze and bounced his knee, pulling a smile from Connor that warmed him through and through. “Yeah,” he said. “It really does. How have things been down in the basement? They finally figured out that update you were telling me about yet?”

Connor treated him to a rare frown, his hands slipping free to cross his arms in front of his chest. He glared at the bland surroundings and scoffed. “Of course not,” he muttered, taking on that tone that signalled how little he was surprised by that. From the way Connor painted it, the precinct’s IT department was one of the most poorly managed entities in the city. “I told them we needed another day or two, hell, a week to make sure everything was working the way we wanted. But did they listen?”

Hank chuckled. “I’m guessing no?”

“That’s right,” Connor said, throwing his hands into the air in a rare display of frustration. His cheeks were flushed for a different reason now, and Hank couldn’t get enough of it. “They didn’t listen and decided to speed up the timeframe and now look at where we are. The system is down and I’m left with nothing to do.”

Hank eyed the remainder of his sandwich and lifted a brow at Connor pointedly. “Did you get so upset that you went home and made me lunch just for something to do?”

Connor fought a smile, but it was a losing battle from the start. “It makes me feel better when I do nice things for other people,” he admitted, crossing his arms snugly against his chest. He rested his cheek on his shoulder and stared up at Hank through his eyelashes. “And you appreciate me, right?”

“Of course I do,” Hank blustered, caught off guard. It was a lethal combination, those eyes and that tone. Goddamn. He shoved some more bread and meat into his mouth to buy him a moment to regain composure. It was all too easy to succumb to Connor, to the good feelings he brought with him everywhere he went. That scared Hank sometimes, to be honest. He had grown all too used to being alone, to wallowing in his bad thoughts and guilt. To feel  _ good  _ so often was… unsettling anymore. 

But he was getting better at accepting it. Every single day they spent together made him realize what he had been missing and how much he actually  _ missed  _ feeling good. 

“I know you do, Hank,” Connor sighed, an easy little smile lingering on his lips as he turned his head to look out the window. “I appreciate you… too…”

Hank swallowed and frowned. “Something wrong?”

Connor’s expression fell. He sat up straight and didn’t look at him. “Are those… Are those people supposed to be out here right now?”

Bemusement turned to dread in the blink of an eye. Hank leaned forward and looked past Connor’s head, sandwich shoved onto the dashboard as he took in the sudden movement congregating around the rising warehouse gate the taskforce had marked as their semi-likely suspect. A large truck had driven right past them while they were chatting, its rear pulled up at the front of the gate and a few men leaping out to go inside. 

“Are those… the men you’re looking for?” Connor said quietly, helplessly.

A lead weight settled in the bottom of Hank’s stomach. He didn’t answer. His eyes refused to leave one of the figures standing close to the door of the truck, the man’s eyes fixed on their location. 

It didn’t take more than a second or two for Hank to weigh the odds and find them absolutely not in their favor. 

The man started walking towards them. His expression was anything but friendly. Hank’s eyes skimmed the interior of the car. Even at a glance a person would be able to look in and tell that they weren’t civilians. The rest of the men had disappeared into the warehouse. 

“Hank?” Connor pressed, voice a little scared, hand going for Hank’s to wrap around his wrist. “Why is he coming over here?”

“Stay in the car,” Hank answered, pulling free from Connor’s grip to dig beneath the seat for his holster. 

Connor’s eyes widened. “What?” Outside of the car the approaching man shouted something in their direction. Hank didn’t need to be a lip reader to know he was demanding they get out of the vehicle. Witnesses weren’t good for business like this, and be they civilians or undercover cops, the result would likely be the same. 

Fucking Christ. 

“Stay in the car,” Hank barked, finally wrapping his hand around his gun. He shouldered open the door to the car. God, so stupid. Why did he let Connor stay? Even a chance of this being active should have been enough to make this too dangerous for civilians. Hank leapt out of the car and pointed his gun at the approaching man. He’d gotten way too close to them. “Detroit Police, put your hands up and step away from the vehicle!”

“Fuck!” the perp shouted, sweat visibly breaking out along his forehead. There was a bevy of sounds that rose up behind him. A quick glance told Hank that their voices had carried into the warehouse, and a stream of men holding boxes and crates began to emerge, eyes wide and voices loud as they realized the current situation. “We don’t want no trouble, man,” the man closest to Hank—to Connor—called out, his hand straying behind his back and towards his waistband. “We can cut you in, man. Bet they pay you cops like shit—”

“Keep your hands where I can see them!” Hank shouted, cursing himself for not calling backup before racing into the thick of it. He had the dispatch radio in the car though, and Connor was smart. He’d call them. He’d get reinforcements here in a few minutes and everything would be alright.

The man snarled something under his breath and looked back at the figures around the truck. He seemed to judge the distance, then looked back at Hank. His frustration morphed into a frightening grin. “We’ve got you outnumbered, old man,” he said, glancing over at the car where Connor probably had his face pressed against the window. “Turn around and let us be and we’ll leave you alone. How does that sound?”

It would sound great if it wasn’t a bald-faced lie. There was no way they’d let a cop walk away from here. He’d just call reinforcements the second he was out of the danger zone. No, this asshole wanted Hank to lower his gun. He would shoot when Hank had no way to defend himself, and then he’d go for Connor. Nice and tidy. Neat and clean. No witnesses, no fuss. 

“How about you and your boys throw down your weapons and stand in a nice and orderly line,” Hank countered, taking in the guy in front of him. He was a young one, probably an upstart who had been put in charge of this operation to prove himself. He was definitely packing, but if Hank could take him out, the rest would probably go along quietly. “Lead by example. On the ground, now.”

Still smiling, the guy went along with the order. He sank to his knees and held his hands above his head. “You don’t know who you’re messing with,” he said with a sigh. “Should’ve just taken the offer, old man. We deal straight.”

“Sure, that’s exactly what I hear from the other guys when they bring in shitheads like you.” Hank came closer, one hand leaving his gun to reach for his cuffs in his back pocket. “You’ve got the right to remain silen—”

There was a certain level of irony in the other gangsters choosing that specific moment to fire a gun. The word caught in the back of Hank’s throat as a burning pain tore through his leg, sending him to the ground in a heap. The leader leapt from the ground with a laugh and danced a few feet back, hands in the air as he whooped victoriously at his friends by the warehouse. Hank lifted his head and caught sight of one of them perched behind the corner of the truck, handgun braced on his knee as he rose up and high fived the guy beside him. 

A rookie mistake, not keeping his eyes on all of them. God fucking damn it. 

The bullet wound was a clean in-and-out, but it bled like a bitch and hurt even worse besides. Hank groaned and pulled his thigh close to his chest, one hand holding his gun in a deathgrip while the other pressed down hard on the wound to staunch the bleeding. 

“That’s what happens when you mess with us!” the leader shouted, waving his friends forward as he drew closer to Hank. “Keep that gun on the ground if you know what’s good for you, too. We ain’t keen on killing a cop, but if you start shooting we will.”

“You’re going to go down so hard for this,” Hank grunted, teeth clenched tightly as he found the mounting panic. Had Connor called for backup? There was no way it would take more than a few minutes tops for the sirens to start squealing, for enough cops to flood this place to put even the cockiest gangbanger off his high horse. 

“Shut up,” the leader snorted, finally pulling his gun from his waistband. He stood a safe distance from Hank, gun trained on him and unwavering. “You think I’m scared of you, old man? You kill a cop and get away with it, they make you a king!” He cocked his gun loudly. “I think I like the sound of that, don’t you?”

Hank snarled, but then the gathered guys in the back started shouting. Most were lost in the pain-fueled haze thundering between Hank’s ears, but one managed to sneak through the whitenoise. 

“Hey, get back!”

Hank’s heart stopped in his chest. He lifted his head and looked behind him only to see the sun glint off the open car door. It snapped closed with a crack and out came Connor. 

Unarmed, no vest, and untrained Connor.

This was a nightmare, wasn’t it? A living fucking nightmare, one pulled from the depths of Hank’s shattered subconcious and put on display to torture him for something he’d done in a past life. “Connor,” he breathed, hands shaking around his gun, sweat slicking his grip until he worried he might drop it completely. “What are you doing? Get back in the fucking car!”

But the guns were already trained on Connor, his hands raised as he slowly walked forward and put himself in front of Hank’s prone body. His head was held high, no ounce of fear on his face— at least, not any that Hank could perceive. There was a tightness to his jaw that spoke of stress, and his eyes kept flicking down to look at Hank, but the rest was… the rest was disturbingly calm given the situation. 

“Can you stand up, Hank?” Connor asked quietly, eyes locked on the blood pouring out of Hank’s leg. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Hank said, almost insensate from the panic fuelling him alongside the pain. “They’ll shoot you.”

“It won’t matter, Hank,” Connor said grimly, his eyes slowly shifting to take in the barrage of gang members approaching in a mass. 

“What the fuck do you mean, it won’t matter? Get the fuck out of here!” 

Connor simply put himself between the guns and Hank. His hands lowered a bit, coming out to his sides, outstretched. 

A cold, sickly feeling came over Hank. The world seemed to slow down, to grate to a halting stop. This was just like Cole all over again, wasn’t it? A stupid mistake. A lifetime of regret to follow. 

“No,” Hank whispered, struggling to rise to his feet. “Connor, no—”

Tensions were already so frayed that Hank should have known moving would sever them entirely. Before he could rise an inch the rapport of gunfire filled the air, a few men shouting and more screaming for the others to stop. Hank closed his eyes— he couldn’t watch this, couldn’t see it happen. He prayed one of the bullets would strike him in the head so he wouldn’t have to, because if these men didn’t kill him, seeing Connor on the ground would. 

He wasn’t strong enough to do it again. He just wasn’t. 

But instead of pain, Hank heard more screams. Not from Connor— none of them sounded like him, but with the ringing in his ears, how could he be sure? Hank cracked open an eye when he realized the bullets had stopped and none had hit him. He blinked blearily, struggling to dispel the blackness blinding him, only… It wasn’t him. It wouldn’t disappear. 

A thick, black shadow had descended over him, over the entire area, and Hank couldn’t see anything. Not Connor, not the warehouse, not the guns.

“What the hell?” he croaked. He crawled forward, hand reaching into the darkness in the direction he’d last seen Connor, and he felt… something smooth. Silky. The shadow around him was tangible somehow. Hank swallowed dryly and shook his head. “I’m fucking dead,” he decided. “I’m fucking dead.”

“Hank?” came Connor’s voice. “Are you alright?”

Pain be damned, Hank struggled to find his legs. “Connor?!” he shouted, moving in the direction of his voice. The shadows clung to him, tugging at his shoulders and hair to keep him from moving, but he just pushed harder, tore through it until he spilled out into the light once more. Hank collapsed to his knees and scrubbed at his face. He looked at his surroundings and gaped. 

It was gone. All of it. The men, the guns, the carnage… Bodies littered the ground, peppered with bullet wounds. The truck was partially crushed as if hit with a giant hammer. The pavement even sported craters. Smoke—black smoke, like the stuff still clinging to Hank—rose off all of it like a heat haze.

In the middle of it all sat Connor, collapsed on his knees and staring blankly back at Hank, more of that black smoke pouring from his fingertips, from his lips and eyes and nose. He wasn’t bleeding at all. Beyond the smoke, he looked… fine. Absolutely fine. 

“Hank,” Connor said, a flood of smoke issuing from his mouth as he blinked away black until his normal brown eyes reappeared. “You’re okay.” 

Hank stared. Just… stared. The men on the ground didn’t move. He had a feeling they couldn’t anymore. 

“I’m… sorry, Hank,” Connor tried, picking himself off the ground slowly, creeping towards him as if afraid Hank might run from him. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

Connor. Connor from IT, with the dorky sweaters and penchant for baking his own bread. Connor, the one person Hank had talked to about Cole in ten years. Connor, who had just killed ten armed men without taking a single hit. Connor, who still had strange, inhuman smoke pouring from his body like some kind of human-bonfire—

But that wasn’t right, was it? Connor wasn’t human. Couldn’t be. 

“Hank?” Connor said, falling to his knees in front of him, concern dripping from every part of him. “You’re hurt. Can you walk?” He glanced up and blanched at whatever he saw in Hank’s face. “Hank… talk to me,” he begged. He made a move to touch Hank’s face and Hank recoiled instinctively. 

“Hank,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Say something.”

Hank wasn’t sure what to think, let alone say. He stayed silent and listened as Connor’s breath caught in the back of his throat. The sound of sirens were emerging in the distance. 

“Hank…”

And Hank just stayed quiet.


	4. Chapter 4

The weather suited Connor’s mood as he stood on Hank’s doorstep: morose, maudlin, and wet. A storm was brewing in the dark clouds overhead, thick and angry, bitter and cold. He’d learned the old idiom  _ April showers bring May flowers,  _ but he hadn’t heard any cute rhyme for March. Maybe the rain didn’t bring anything for those storms. Maybe sometimes rain was just rain, and bitterness was just bitterness. 

“Don’t think like that, Connor,” he whispered as he struggled to find the nerve to knock on the man’s door. Positive thoughts only right now. He closed his eyes. He rapped his knuckles against the wood. 

It had been almost three weeks since he’d last spoken to Hank. Three weeks since that horrible moment at the warehouse. Three weeks since… Connor took in a harsh breath and watched it condense into fog in front of his face. Since the worst moment of his existence after breaking out of that facility and starting over fresh. He had always wanted to tell Hank, to come clean, share that part of himself with him, but… but…

Not like that. Never like that. 

Movement stirred on the other side of the door. Connor stood straighter, practically feeling Hank’s gaze on him through the peephole. He wondered if he should try for a smile. He didn’t feel much like smiling. It was too cold for that, and his chest felt so empty. 

A latch sounded as it was pulled back. The door opened a crack and through it peered one familiar blue eye. 

“Good evening, Hank,” Connor said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Can I come in?”

That single eye looked him up and down. Connor could sense his indecision. Rainwater dripped down Connor’s coat and hair. He’d forgotten his umbrella. Hank let out a low sigh and opened the door fully. “You look like a half-drowned puppy,” he muttered, stepping back to let Connor inside. “Did you do that on purpose or are you just that pathetic tonight?”

Connor couldn’t fight back a smile. He stepped into the warmth and comforting familiarity of Hank’s home and carefully toed off his shoes so he wouldn’t track water in with him. Sumo was curled up on the floor of the kitchen and lifted his head lazily, his big tail giving a loud thump as it began to wag. Connor smiled at the old dog. At least someone was happy to see him. 

“Sorry for the late hour,” Connor mumbled, hearing the door close behind him. He turned away from Sumo and looked at Hank, trying to judge what that expression on his face meant. The downturned lips, the narrowed eyes, the tightly crossed arms… None of it boded well. “I… wanted to talk.”

Hank averted his eyes. Connor couldn’t help but notice that he was keeping his distance, standing across the room, nearest to the door. It’d been like that at work too in the few scant moments they’d been in the same room together. The office was beginning to talk. They all assumed they had broken up and… Connor couldn’t help but feel the same. There had been no break up talk, no call, no text. Just… nothing. Nothing but silence, fleeting glances, and the feeling that Hank was too scared of him to properly end things once and for all. 

Connor didn’t have to think all that hard on why that felt worse than the alternative. 

“What do you want to talk about?” Hank answered after a weighty silence. His fingers clenched in the sleeves of his old hoodie. 

Connor looked towards the living room, specifically at the chairs. He had thought it would be obvious, but maybe Hank just wanted to postpone the inevitable a little longer. “Can we sit?” Connor didn’t really blame him for that. If he felt he could keep treading water like this, he might have done the same. 

Hank bristled. Then, he relaxed. He let out a sigh and nodded. Connor was relieved, despite how simple a request that had been. He didn’t look it in the mouth; he crossed into the living room and sat gingerly on the edge of an armchair, carefully leaving plenty of room between him and the other available seats. Hank slowly followed. He opted for the end of the couch. They had never felt further apart. 

“Thanks,” Connor said quietly, folding his hands in his lap. “I know you probably want nothing to do with me anymore but… I just want you to know that I would never hurt you, Hank.” His fingers tightened, his nails digging into his palms a little. “I can’t imagine what you must think of me.”

Hank sat in stony silence. Connor read nothing from his face. Something hot curled in the pit of his stomach, the same frustration that had been plaguing him all these weeks. He wasn’t human. He couldn’t completely understand how they processed things, but he could try to imagine, and it still didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem fair that Hank could cut him off without a word, simply pretend he didn’t exist after… after all they had shared together. 

If Hank thought he wouldn’t fight against it all just dissolving away, he was wrong. Very wrong. 

“But… we dated for a while,” he went on, and despite his best attempts, his voice came out a little sharp. “If you wanted to end things, I feel like I at least deserve you saying it to my face.”

Hank’s eyes widened incrementally at that. He stared at Connor incredulously. “Excuse me?”

“I think I deserve better than this, Hank.” Connor held his head high. “I’m still the same person I’ve always been.”

“That  _ person  _ apparently isn’t human, Connor!” Hank snapped, dropping his hands beside himself. His expression took on a hunted quality around the edges. “Excuse me for being fucking scared of that!”

Connor wasn’t an angry individual. He prided himself on keeping an even temper, but this… This was testing him. “I’m not saying you can’t be scared,” he said coldly. “I’m just saying that you should understand that I’m still Connor. I’m the same person you sat with at dinner and held and kissed, and I’m  _ saying  _ that I still deserve the decency of you looking me in the eye as you end things between us.”

“I don’t even know what you are, Connor,” Hank growled. “I don’t know what anything is anymore.”

“Then  _ ask,  _ Hank,” Connor bit. “Do you think I won’t tell you? I want you to know. All I want is to be honest with you.” He softened, anger giving way to desperation. “Please, Hank. You have to know I care about you. That I’d never hurt you. Just… ask me. Ask me anything. I just want you to stop being scared of me.”

Hank balked a little. Like he hadn’t expected him to be forthcoming. He slowly came down from his alert pose and eased into the couch. Still primed to move, to run, but more guarded than paranoid now. “I guess we could start with the easy questions,” Hank said flatly, eyeing Connor like he was a loaded weapon that could go off at any moment. “What… exactly are you? Where the hell are you from? What was all of that… that black shit you did when you k—” He cut himself off and glowered at the floor. His hands curled into tight fists on his knees. 

Connor cleared his throat. The air was so heavy, thick. “The first question is the easiest,” he said quietly. “I’m a Dullahan.”

“A what-now?”

Connor’s smile turned self-deprecating. “Sorry. I forget sometimes that such things aren’t as well-known here in America.” He swirled his hand in the air and summoned a bit of shadow to his fingers. He sensed Hank stiffen but chose to ignore it. “I’m a type of fae. An omen.”

“Like… a banshee?” Hank asked staggeringly, clearly trying his best to reconcile the improbability of it all with the clear show of magic dancing in Connor’s palm. 

Connor’s brows shot towards his hairline. “You know what a banshee is?”

“I’ve seen a few movies,” Hank said woodenly. “Are you one of those then?”

“No, not quite. Similar though.” Connor closed his hand and the magic disappeared, leaking out through the cracks in his fingers like smoke dissipating into the air. “I don’t curse families. I just… herald death. I ride the land on my steed and speak the names of those soon to die. My… head comes off too.” 

He couldn’t look at Hank as he said that last part. He’d unconsciously begun toying with the ribbon around his neck and had to consciously drop his hand back into his lap to stop. A quick glance in Hank’s direction didn’t make him feel less uncomfortable. The man was staring at him with wide, horror-filled eyes, and that… stung a bit. Just a little. 

Had he really believed Hank would accept him for who he was? That was asking a lot of anyone, wasn’t it? Definitely too much. 

A few heavy moments passed without either of them saying a word. The calm before a brewing storm. “Your head comes off. You’re some kind of… creature of death,” Hank pressed when it became clear Connor wouldn’t say more, his tone sharp, clipped, cold. Statements. Connor nodded along, but Hank wasn’t paying him much mind. “Jesus Christ. All that shit you said on our first date. About death. About my  _ son—”  _

“I wanted to help you,” Connor cut in, so desperate to be understood. “I care about you, Hank.”

“Not enough to be honest with me. To… To give me any indication that you weren’t— That you’re some kind of—” He cut himself off and kneaded at his eyes before dropping his hand. Once he did, his temperament seemed to cool, glacial and impersonal. He looked over Connor’s face as if trying to find some spark of familiarity in his features. “So, how much of what you told me was real? Anything?” 

Connor stiffened. “I… didn’t lie to you, Hank,” he whispered. 

“No,” the man retorted, glaring at the wall. “You just kept it vague, right? A lot of half-truths and misdirections to make me think you were something you weren’t. Yeah. Sounds a lot better like that, doesn’t it?”

Connor’s throat grew tight. He struggled to keep his head up. “I couldn’t tell you everything,” he said, voice weak, Hank’s anger too loud to be heard over. “I’ve… been running for a long time, Hank. Things aren’t safe for me. I couldn’t just— I couldn’t just tell you the truth. You never would have believed me. And if you did… If you hated me after…”

“Then what?” Hank pressed, eyes like chips of ice. “I’d dump you? Never date you?”

“You’d tell someone,” Connor croaked, “and they’d send me back to that facility and lock me away again.”

Hank balked. “Wait… What?”

Connor gave up looking at Hank. His breath came quicker now, the panic setting in as the thoughts rushed over him. “I didn’t lie to you,” he repeated, because for some reason that felt important. “I didn’t lie. I ran here, started over, lived a normal life to hide from them, but they’ve never stopped looking for me. How do you think I got here, Hank? Why do you think I’ve made myself this unassuming person? Living under the radar, never making connections—” He looked up, stared at Hank helplessly. “I just tried to protect myself. That’s all I’ve ever done.”

Blinking rapidly, Hank furrowed his brow. He shook his head and stood up, and he began to pace the ground, hands yanking through his hair as he said, “Are you… What are you even trying to say, Connor? That someone is after you?”

“Not a person,” Connor answered weakly. “An organization. The facility...” He shuddered instinctively. A bitter taste coated his tongue and no matter how hard he swallowed, he couldn’t make it go away. He usually did a better job of keeping the fear at bay, but the fallout from what he had done at that warehouse was too noticeable, too public now. The news had chalked it up as a gas leak, an explosion. “They took me from Ireland. My brothers and me. Brought us here. L-Locked us up. Ran tests.” But those scientists knew better. They knew what to look for in a confused news report, and Connor knew there would be movement on their part soon. Retaliation. 

He’d seen it done before. Hell, he’d used the same tactics to seek out his own kind before, though he’d always had much worse luck at finding his targets than they did. 

Hank paused mid step. He pointedly kept his eyes on the floor. “What kind of tests?”

“Horrible ones,” he whispered, knowing Hank would hear. The room was so quiet now, as silent as the grave. Connor hung his head. He hid his face with his hands. He hadn’t imagined this talk going like this. He wanted to slowly bring Hank into the fold, share things with him bit by bit, gradually. Not all at once. Not bogging him down with the pain of his past as if it might explain his actions in a way Hank could understand. “Needles. Scalpels. Drugs. They did everything they could think to do.”

“Why?”

It wasn’t a sure-sounding question. Hank’s voice croaked around the single syllable, an obligation more than a curious inquiry. Connor wanted to laugh; Hank could be such a masochist, asking when he knew he wouldn’t like the answer. But that was a police officer, wasn’t it? Someone who searched for the truth even if the truth had teeth sharper and crueler than any lie. 

Connor just smiled weakly at the floor. “You’ve seen what I’m capable of,” he said quietly. He lifted his head, looked Hank in the eye. “Do you really think there aren’t people out there that want to do that themselves? To use that kind of power for their own ends?”

“Connor…”

“I wasn’t trying to lie to you, Hank,” Connor said. “This is how I’ve lived for the past few years. It’s what’s kept me safe since I escaped. Every choice I make, every bit of myself I let show in public— all of it puts me at risk. I… I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you, just… not like that.”

“You killed those men,” Hank whispered.

“I protected you,” Connor corrected gently, looking away. It was gutting how he could make four simple words sound so heavy. “They were going to kill you and I… I just did what I had to do to keep that from happening. I never wanted you to find out like that. I’m sorry.” 

Hank sighed. He sounded exhausted. Had he lost sleep over this too? It didn’t make Connor happier to think he had, but it was something. He’d take something over nothing if it meant Hank still cared. The man took a few steps and stared at the wall across the room. There was a clear angle to his pose, clear tension in his shoulders, his back. What was he thinking about? Connor would trade anything to know. 

Before all of this, he might have just asked. But now… 

Now he wasn’t sure if he had that privilege anymore. 

“You… said something about brothers,” Hank broached after a few weighty minutes of nothing but the sound of a clock ticking somewhere in the background. He turned a little, looked over Connor from a safe distance. It was a topic change Connor hadn’t anticipated, but that was fine. So long as Hank was interested in knowing more, in learning about him instead of fearing him… He’d tell him what he wanted to know. He’d take what he could get. Hank bit his bottom lip and pushed his messy hair out of his face. “You’re some kind of fae. An omen, and there are… more of you?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Connor mumbled. “We have families just like you.”

Hank made a strange noise. “I wasn’t trying— I was just asking—”

“It’s fine, Hank,” Connor interjected. He ran his fingers through his damp hair and shrugged a shoulder weakly. He knew how it sounded, and even if he wasn’t human he could understand where the confusion might rise up. As far as Hank knew, he was some kind of entity that sprang forth from the ether to lay waste on humanity. Once upon a time it might have been like that, but everyone grew with time. Even old traditions gave way to new innovations, new compromises, new… relationships, both romantic and familial. “I’ve got two brothers. Nines and Silas. We were taken together…” 

Connor paused. He toyed with the idea of telling him how long ago it was. Before Hank was born, surely… That would bother him, wouldn’t it? To know how old Connor was, how much he had lived through. Humans had a tendency to worry about things like that. He sighed to himself and finished vaguely, “A while ago.”

“And where are they?”

“I don’t know. One of them escaped first but I never managed to find him. The other… I don’t know. I try to keep my ear to the ground but it’s hard to hear things. Not much comes out of that place. Things go in, but they rarely come out.”

“That’s heavy,” Hank said bluntly. He winced right after, so Connor didn’t take it the wrong way. 

“It’s just how I’ve been living since then. Nothing is ever certain. You were the first—”

Hank lifted a brow. “First what?”

Connor colored, twisting his hands in his lap. “I’ve had close calls over the years. Taken risks. Had them track me down. I’ve started over so many times, in so many cities, but… You were the first person I ever let myself fall for. The first person I… felt was worth the risk.” Which was a riot in retrospect. Look how well that turned out for him. Sitting in Hank’s living room, soaking wet, head hanging like a downtrodden dog after being reprimanded by its owner for bad behavior. Only, people forgave their pets. They didn’t forgive monsters for being monsters right in front of them. 

If he looked at it from Hank’s perspective, that’s what he was. Just a strange, horrifying monster capable of killing. Maybe it didn’t matter that they had shared so many kinder, sweeter moments together. One spot of black ruined a pure white sheet. He’d spilled more than just a drop in that warehouse landing. He had painted the entire street with it until only a speck of Hank remained. 

“Connor.”

Connor didn’t look up.

Hank came a little closer. He hovered a few feet away from Connor’s seat. “Connor,” he repeated, firmer this time, but the way he clearly wouldn’t come close stung worse than the strict tone. Slowly, Connor lifted his head.

“Yes, Hank?”

Hank looked down at him, perhaps struggling to reconcile the monster with the same old Connor he’d always looked at day in and day out. His pleated peacoat and wet hair, the sodden ribbon around his neck and the wrinkled button down shirt hiding underneath it all. His nerd clothes, Hank always teased. What did he see when he looked at him now? Could he reconcile it? Or did it just make the disparity that much more damning?

“Connor, why did you really come here?”

What a loaded question. Connor might have laughed if he felt capable of something like that. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t. He looked at his hands. He thought long and hard about the question before he answered. 

“I… just want to know that you don’t hate me,” Connor whispered. He wasn’t sure if things could go back to what they had been before. Shattering the illusion like he had… Show Hank who he was in the worst way possible… Maybe there was no going back from that. “I still love you, Hank. I can’t stand the thought of you hating me.”

Hank swallowed. He looked so tired. His beard was shaggy and untrimmed, and his eyes were dark with heavy bags. He hadn’t handled this well either, and Connor just felt more guilty at the realization. “I don’t hate you, Con,” he said quietly. “I just… don’t know what to think anymore. It’s a hell of a lot to process.”

Connor laughed weakly. He supposed he couldn’t blame Hank for that. The human worldview was so narrow and straight. He had wanted to open Hank up to it more before… ruining everything. “I suppose it is,” he said quietly. He looked around the room, taking in the familiar furniture, photographs, and the mess hiding away in the kitchen. He’d grown comfortable in this place, with this man. Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe it hadn’t. It was still too soon to tell, and it felt like his time to ponder it had run its course. 

He stood up and sighed. “I’ll leave,” he said, saving Hank the trouble of asking him to go. “Thank you for… for letting me in at all.”

“Connor,” Hank tried, taking a step closer. Connor lifted his head, eyes wide, heart constricting in his chest. Hank stopped himself at arm’s length, the conflict in his eyes alive and well even as he began to lift his hand just to drop it back again at his side. He looked at the floor. “I don’t hate you. I just need… time. You can understand that, can’t you? I’m not used to this. I need time to process. To get my head on right.”

Connor snorted despite himself. Hank stiffened, realizing, but it just made Connor laugh a little more. “That’s fair, Hank,” he said, something loosening in his chest. Hank slowly lifted his head. “It’s a lot. For anyone. Just…” His smile wilted at the edges. “Just look at me a little, okay? I’m still a person. Just not the kind you’re used to.”

Hank tried for a smile that brightened his eyes just a little. Connor’s stomach twisted, reminding him once more how easy it was to love this man. Even now, after everything. “Fair enough,” he agreed, shoving his hands into his hoodie pouch. “If I can look at Reed’s ugly mug five days a week, I guess I can manage you too.”

“I’ll try not to be offended by that,” Connor smiled, dipping his head. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, feeling lighter, freer. The rain outside still sounded heavy, hard, but it wasn’t as oppressive as it had been. He could bear the storm. He’d be just fine. He raised his head. “Walk me out?”

Hank turned and let Connor move past him. He trailed behind as they made for the door. Sumo’s tail thumped a few times, a goodbye all his own. The door opened and the dark street outside was a mess of glinting water and streetlight glares. Connor paused on the doorstep and looked at Hank. 

“Thank you for letting me in,” he said quietly.

“Thanks for stopping by,” Hank said, just as quietly. He leaned against the door frame, looking a little more like the man who had laughed so hard at his jokes and brightened so much at the thought of eating homemade food. “I’ll… see you Monday then?”

“See you Monday,” Connor recited. 

Hank left him with a parting smile as he closed the door behind him. Not a kiss. Not a hug. Not a friendly touch like they’d grown so used to sharing with one another. Just a smile, and just for a moment. 

But it was something, Connor told himself, rubbing at his shoulders as he let the rain pound against him, and something was always better than nothing. 

\---

Nines blinked away the rain and wiped down the lenses of his binoculars for the fourth time in as many minutes. The night was cold, dreary, but in a way reminded him of home. The bright, hateful floodlights painted the no-man’s-land in stark greys and muddy browns. That was less familiar, but each night lessened that strangeness a little more. Soon, he’d be an expert in the topography of this place. 

Soon, he’d be ready to make his move. 

Tonight though was simple reconnaissance. There was a rhythm to this facility’s operations and learning it was paramount to circumventing it. He’d learned over the course of a few weeks that every other month came a scheduled supply truck that would take the winding, watch-tower lined path to the back gate. Two men would emerge from the truck, consent to thorough body-searches, and then proceed to unload crates onto dollies before disappearing inside the building’s warehouse-like backdoor. What those crates contained was still a mystery. Nines hoped it was something mundane, like food. 

The darker part of him that knew what went on behind those closed doors couldn’t help but imagine something much, much worse. 

His hands tightened around the binoculars. The metal and plastic creaked, threatening to dent. The cold night air stung his lungs as he inhaled slowly. Calm. He needed to be calm. Those years were behind him—  _ But not for Connor,  _ a voice whispered against his ear.  _ Not for Silas.  _

“I’m going to get them out,” he said aloud. In all the years of living without them, of living with the knowledge of what he’d left them to suffer through, he’d found that the only way to quiet that voice was to argue back that he was  _ doing something about it.  _ That he’d  _ been  _ doing something for the past two years. Surveillance, research, training,  _ living—  _ He hadn’t slowed down in the time he’d been on the outside. Every moment was one he could spend preparing. Every breath he breathed on the outside was another his brothers couldn’t share. 

The men emerged from the warehouse dock with empty dollies. Nines carefully focused his binoculars, watching them key in something on a keypad near the door, the large doors closing behind them. No security walked them out. Regulars. Habit bred tolerance, and tolerance bred security flaws. Nines made a mental note to keep that little tidbit in mind when he planned his own trip inside. Getting out had taken bloodshed, brute force, and a complete loss of control; getting back in would require the exact opposite.

The men packed their dollies into the back of the truck. They got into the front cab and turned on the engine, their truck making the winding trip back through the no-man’s-land until their headlights disappeared down a turn he couldn’t follow. Nines lowered his binoculars and carefully stretched out his legs, his arms. He wouldn’t be able to stand up just yet. The watchtower security wouldn’t change shifts for another two hours, and moving before then would open himself up to their scrutiny. Packing up the binoculars would give him something to do, but it would free his hands, leave him nothing to keep them occupied. He brought them back to his eyes and scanned the dull grey brick and disgustingly thick metal walls. 

Memories flooded in like the moving pictures on the television screens he caught the humans watching when he ventured into stores, cafes, bars. The sterile white rooms and the thick leather straps that characterized every gurney lying just inside. Sharp metal tools. Colorful little capsules that brought airy visions of worlds beyond their ken. So much time lost to the knives and clipboards and uncaring eyes hidden behind thick plastic goggles. So much more taken when the pills lost their potency. When the drugs stopped being enough to keep him passive. 

_ If the chance comes, you need to run,  _ Connor had whispered through the crack separating their cells.  _ Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about Sy. Just get yourself out, Nines. You’re too strong for them to keep in here. You can get out.  _

It hadn’t mattered how many times he told his brother he would never leave them behind. Connor hadn’t changed his tune, and Nines… Nines hadn’t wanted to believe he’d only have the choice to save himself if that chance presented itself. But it had. And he did. And there was nothing he could do now but try to make amends.

The binocular’s casing creaked as it gave in to the insistent pressure of his grip. 

“I’m coming for you, Silas, Connor,” Nines breathed, a prayer for the brothers he’d been forced to leave behind. Just a few more nights of this. Then… freedom. Freedom for them all. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a note that we've had a tag change if you havent already noticed. some asshole decided to cause a fuss over that so im just making a point to let everyone reading this know that ive had "tags may change" in the tags since this fic began and they are ALWAYS subject to change until that note is removed. you agree to that possibility when you click on this fic, so if you ignore that and end up seeing a plot development you dont like that's on you, not me. 
> 
> thank you to everyone reading this who isn't an entitled ass. im not going to bring this up again, so consider this issue done and over.

Anonymous tips had taken Detective Gavin Reed to some pretty strange places before, but this one had to take the cake. The large, industrial-looking facility rose over him like a monolith, a ghostly white against the off-black of the night sky behind it. A shiver rolled down Gavin’s spine at the sight of it. 

Something definitely felt off about this place, something a little less mundane than the tip-off about illegal drug trafficking. The voice on the phone had sounded so damn sure, enough so that Fowler hadn’t seen anything amiss in taking it seriously. Big pharm places like this were always suspicious when it came to what they were peddling on the side. Add to it that the public listing on the business was about as vague as humanly possible and you had the makings of a potentially insightful, potentially boring Friday night. 

Gavin leaned back in his seat and rested his hands loosely on the wheel. His intel had told him that the facility operated 24/7 but after eleven only held a skeleton crew to monitor ongoing experiments and take care of the cleaning. He didn’t have much intel beyond that. Every online search he tried pulled up distressingly little about the big, expansive facility sprawled over a few square acres of Detroit’s outskirts. The most coherent answer he’d gotten on what they specialized in erred towards pharmaceuticals, drug testing, experimental things. But no specifics. No brand names. No claims to fame from past work, no testimonials from past employees or publications from current staff. 

Something in his gut told him there was something wrong with that picture. 

Maybe the real Area 51 was actually here, he mused. The searchlights mounted on top of the watchtowers had to be there for a reason, and it wasn’t like this place was military or penal. He let his eyes track the road ahead of him, looking over the guard posts and headlights idling near a rear entrance adjacent to the supply road he’d parked on. So much security for a place like this… They had to be hiding something, right? 

Gavin reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out his phone, thumbing through the lockscreen to pull up the notes he’d written earlier at the precinct. 

He didn’t have much. Suspected drug trafficking, Red Ice and worse, and distribution across state and border lines. They were so close to Canada that Gavin didn’t like the chances of keeping this a local case for long, but all of that would depend on the evidence he managed to gather. The voice over the phone had been insistent that there was plenty to find if one simply looked. The guard posts weren’t all that comforting in that regard, but if some stranger on the phone managed it, Gavin figured he could too. 

But where to start. He couldn’t very well get caught snooping around the grounds. He’d brought his badge and gun but he hadn’t exactly gotten clearance to stake out the area. The tip off was circumstantial, unverified, and while it had a certain logical sense to it, it wasn’t enough to show to the higher ups for any kind of solid authorization. If Gavin got caught and his cover blown, he’d be in for it come Monday. So, that left casual snooping far down on his list of options right now. He couldn’t risk that much, not on a tip he wasn’t even sure was legit. 

Of course, he couldn’t just sit in his car and do nothing. If this place really was a front for drug trafficking, it’d be a game changer. Red Ice was the big thing these days, and if he somehow managed to bust a huge manufacturer, one that had been sitting under the precinct’s nose for however many years… Fuck, he’d make Lietenant in no time. Hell, maybe even more. He gripped the steering wheel and rubbed his hands against the textured plastic, a little giddy just thinking about it. 

It was all predicated on finding proof though, and he had to figure that out before anything else. The size of his new office could wait; Gavin stared out at the barren, well-lit landscape and slowly put his car into drive. He slowly creeped closer, edging nearer to the compound itself, taking in the number of vehicles in the staff lot and the retreating supply truck disappearing around the building and heading off towards the main road. Gavin noted the company name on the side. He’d make a note of looking up the brand later. Maybe it would lead somewhere. Maybe it wouldn’t. There didn’t seem to be any sign of life beyond the vanishing rear lights though. The guard posts were still, the meager cars empty, and as he crept closer to the rear warehouse doors, Gavin saw no sign of anyone unloading or transporting much of anything. The place was effectively abandoned. 

Great. Just great. The place had its lights on but there was no telling if those were security lights or if it meant there were people inside still at work. There were sometimes characteristics indicative of drug manufacturing and the like, but those were for small home operations, things in trailers or basements, nothing upscale like a big facility like this. Christ, he was going to have to do some legwork, wasn’t he? 

Gavin unfastened his seatbelt and ran his hands through his hair. Okay. That was fine. That was fine, right? He could do that. He used to hop fences back in high school, and he’d trespassed plenty of times with the gang. His track record with it was good too, since he’d never been caught. There were those close calls, but he had always managed to outrun the cops. Of course, he had been a spry sixteen year old. Now that he was the middling-aged cop, he wasn’t so sure if the results would be the same. They probably would though. Right? Right. 

Just as he was beginning to psyche himself up into getting out of the car, movement across the field drew his eye. Gavin’s hands fell to the wheel as he saw the searchlights pivot, a beam of light cutting across the ground—blissfully not in his direction—and illuminated a figure near the warehouse gate. The figure froze, clad all in black, and even through the closed doors of his car could be heard the sound of shouting. Gavin twisted around and watched as a group of clearly armed security guards streamed out of one of the guard posts. The figure froze in place near the wall. 

Several thoughts hammered Gavin in the span of just a few seconds. Firstly came the notion that the figure didn’t look like a thief or a cocky teenager looking for a cheap thrill. Secondly, the unmistakable shape of guns in those guards hands definitely didn’t look like they were just for show. Did they have a rifle on the guy? Seriously, was this place a fucking prison? Gavin swore under his breath and put his car in reverse, slamming down on the pedal to cut back the way he had come. His eyes stayed on the moving mass of guards as they surrounded the lone figure raising his hands in the white light of the beams. 

It wasn’t a great idea, the one he had formed in the back of his mind, but he needed an excuse to get close to the place, and this seemed to be as good a reason as any. And if it kept some dumb guy from getting shot in front of him, all the better. He doubted he could play the “just passing by” card if questioned, but he could just… come up with something. 

He put his car into park once he reached the edge of the property nearest to the road. He could think on his feet. Maybe not enough to keep from getting shot at, but enough to buy him enough time to run before the bullets got him point-blank. 

Maybe. 

Goddamnit. 

Gavin wrestled for the handle of the door and flung it open, spilling out of his car and breaking into a sprint towards the gathered mass of people and… shit, it was more than just one rifle, wasn’t it? The closer he got, the more of them he noticed. Why the hell did a place like this have that much firepower on their security? Maybe his informant wasn’t so full of shit after all. 

Voices rose as he grew closer. Angry ones. Shouting. Gavin dug his hand into his pocket and tore his badge off his hip, hiding it away in his pocket. He could see now that whoever they had grabbed wasn’t struggling much, but had grown unnaturally still. “Hey!” Gavin called out, pitching his voice with an out of breath laugh, lilting it with a bit of a drunken slur. “What’re you guys doin’ with my pal? Let ‘im go, why don’t ya?”

The group of bulked-out security whirled around, a few raising their guns while the leader held out a hand and barked an order for them to hold. Gavin slowed his approach to a quick walk and held his hands up, eyes wide, doing a headcount and once-over as he took in the situation with just a glance. Five overly muscled security guards, two holding the interloper by the arms. The guns they had looked legal (barely) but definitely unreasonable for private security. The guy they held was almost deathly still now, pale skinned and dark haired. Gavin couldn’t make out his face. His head was bowed and even now didn’t make a move to rise. 

“Who are you?” barked the head of the guards, walking in front of the others with his gun clearly within easy reach. “This is private property.” 

“Hey, hey, go easy on us, would ya?” Gavin slurred, stumbling forward. He wasn’t suicidal, just desperate, so he did stop when the guy’s hand twitched towards his sidearm. “That’s my buddy you’ve got there. What’d he do? Let him go, we’re just havin’ some fun.”

At that the dark-haired man did raise his head, spearing Gavin straight through the heart with a pair of piercing blue eyes. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes burning bright with something indefinable. He was  _ hot  _ in a way Gavin told himself not to focus on, and vaguely familiar in a way he filed away for later. Gavin met his eyes and tried to telepathically communicate to him to play along. Whether or not he got the message was up for debate, but given their lack of options right now, he seemed content to keep his mouth shut either way. 

One of the guards behind the boss let out a nasty sounding snort. “Drunks,” he muttered, easily audible in the cold, quiet night. “Figures.”

“Your buddy was trying to break into a gated facility,” the leader said, louder, firmly telling his men to stay quiet and keep their opinions to themselves. “You got any idea why he might’ve been doing that?”

Gavin crossed his arms and blew a raspberry loudly. Internally, his mind raced. Was this his informant? The voice on the phone? Christ, if he’d known the fucker was thinking of trying something like this he would’ve kept him on the call longer and grilled him for more information. “What, you never done stupid shit before? It was a dare, dude, so lay off a little. Christ, Billy, you couldn’t have been a little sneakier?” he directed at the restrained guy, praying he was smart enough to play along. “Clumsy fucker.”

The guards shifted impatiently, clearly feeling this was now a waste of their time instead of the little sliver of action it had first appeared to be. The head guard started at Gavin hard, his gaze threaded with steel and suspicion as he tried to find the chink in Gavin’s drunken armor that would tell him it was all a ruse. Gavin swayed a little where he stood, gathered a mouthful of spit, and spat it on the grass with a nasty, throaty sound. The guard grimaced and his posture eased. He turned to face his men, and that was it. It was done. 

“Let him go,” he ordered, a note of frustration in his voice. 

One of the men frowned. “Shouldn’t we at least call it in? Get them arrested?”

“You think we need the cops roving all over this place? Let him go, Samson. I’m not fielding that paperwork,” the boss commanded, and reluctantly the men fell into line. Their captive shrugged off their hands and strode quickly towards Gavin, not bothering to put a bit of drunken flair into his movements to really sell the bit. Gavin compensated by stringing an arm over the guy’s broad, muscled shoulders. Christ, this dude was stacked. 

“Come on, Billy,” he slurred, putting some of his weight on the guy to force him to walk with at least a bit of a stumble. “Let’s get outta here. These guys wouldn’t know a good time if it bit them on the ass.” Quieter, under his breath, he hissed, “Just keep your head down and play along.” Gavin lifted his other hand and waved at the men behind him, not bothering to look as he called back, “Night, gents!”

A few snickers rose up behind him, but for the most part no one said much of anything. The feeling of their eyes lingered though. Heavy and vigilant, Gavin didn’t let his guard down until he had reached his car and shoved the guy into the passenger side door. “Get in,” he ordered, unlocking the car with a click of the fob. He looked back the way they had come, the prickling on his skin telling him that they weren’t in the clear just yet. 

The feeling didn’t ease until the guy opened the door, got inside, fastened his seatbelt, and rode away with Gavin back towards the main road. The guards disappeared into the darkness, inky smears that blended in with the bleak landscape. Gavin chanced a glance towards his newfound companion. The streetlights were few and far between, but each one they passed under showed him a new detail, a new piece to the puzzle of who the fuck he had in his car with him. 

The guy was tall for starters, and large enough to make Gavin a little relieved he’d kept his gun on him despite technically being off the clock. Dark hair, those same blue eyes… The man wore black, faded jeans, boots, and a tight black turtleneck. He looked like a cat burglar, or maybe the sluttier Halloween version of what a person might think that would look like. Clearly he’d been sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong. Who was he? What the hell had he wanted in that place? 

“You got something you wanna say to me?” Gavin broached when the silence grew too heavy for even him to put up with. He glanced over, saw the guy was glowering out the other window. “Hey, you. You gonna say thank you? I saved your fucking ass back there.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” came the reluctant, bitter reply. Those blue eyes glanced his way sparingly, a quick once over that apparently left him wanting as he muttered, “Detective Gavin Reed. I expected someone taller.”

A lot hit Gavin all at once. Anger, shock, confusion. Disbelief won out and he slammed on the brakes once it hit him. “You were the informant who called me,” Gavin realized, recognizing that voice in an instant. He pulled over on the side of the road, twisting in the seat to glare at the man blatantly ignoring him. “It was, wasn’t it? What the fuck gives? You call me about drug trafficking and then try to break in anyway?”

“I thought you would have already done something,” the man sniped, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Not lurked on the outskirts like a coward.”

“Like a co— Was I supposed to be your distraction?” Gavin practically shouted, his voice ringing off the low walls of the car. “Oh my fucking god. I should have you arrested for pulling a stunt like that! Who the fuck do you think you are, calling in a fake tip like that just to use me as your fall guy so you can sneak in and… and what? Steal shit? Break things?” He gave the guy a once over and pulled back his teeth. “Fucking Christ, don’t tell me you’re one of those environmental nutjobs that breaks into labs to steal the test animals.”

The man tensed up, fingertips denting the firm flesh of his upper arms. “No,” he spat, eyes forward, posture more than antagonistic. He looked at Gavin and Gavin felt something deep in his gut twist. The hair on his arms rose as if a stiff, cold breeze had rolled over him. “I didn’t come here to steal the test animals.”

“Then what?” Gavin demanded, ignoring the chill, ignoring that voice in the back of his head telling him that something was wrong when nothing obvious presented itself. It was just a guy, just some weird, idiotic guy with a death wish. “Is there even drug trafficking happening behind those doors, or was that just another dose of bullshit you made up for your own convenience?”

“I could sit here in this car with you for an hour and not be able to tell you everything illegal that goes on behind those closed doors,” came the silken, terse reply. “I didn’t lie when I spoke to you on the phone. There is more than enough evidence inside that place to arrest everyone who has ever been involved in anything going in or out of those doors.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes. “Are you some kind of reporter? Investigative journalist?” He hadn’t met too many willing to break into heavily guarded facilities like this before, but he knew the type existed. “This some big scoop you’ve got planned or something? Is that why you’re sticking your nose into things instead of letting me and the department handle things?”

The guy froze, eyes flickering over the dashboard in front of him. “...Yes,” he said after a pregnant pause. He turned, met Gavin’s gaze. “Yes, I’m a reporter.”

“Fucking figures,” Gavin sighed, falling back against his seat with a groan. He covered his face with his hands and kneaded at his eyes violently. At least he wasn’t working off information given to him by some crackpot or PETA asswipe just wanting a free distraction so they could break in and make off with a few lab rats. He dragged his hands down his cheeks and stared at the glowing lights in the rearview mirror that marked the facility in behind them. It seemed so innocuous at a distance. Appearances were misleading though. Clearly. 

Letting his head fall against the headrest, Gavin turned and looked at his companion. “You got a name, reporter? Or should I just keep calling you Billy.”

“Nines,” he answered quietly, relaxing slowly to match Gavin’s posture. Mirroring, Gavin noted. Something was up with this guy still, but he was the only lead he had so he supposed he couldn’t be picky now. “You can call me Nines.”

“Nines,” Gavin huffed. “Maybe I should just keep calling you Billy.”

“It’s Nines.” Firm, brokering no argument. Gavin sighed and shrugged. It wasn’t worth the fight. “Call me my name and I’ll call you yours.”

Gavin glanced over at Nines. “Fine. Nines.” Had to be a fake name, but it wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever had an informant make him use. “Tell me,  _ Nines: _ what sort of shit did you dig up about this place? What’s so dastardly that it’s got you jumping the gun and trying to stage a break in?”

The man stilled and something heavy settled over the vehicle. Gavin wished he had left the radio on. Any background noise would be better than this thick silence. He resisted the urge to tap his foot—it’d just land on the gas pedal and that would be the opposite of what they wanted right now. 

“Uh, you gonna answer me?”

“I have evidence,” Nines said quietly, slowly, dragging each word out like it physically pained him to speak them aloud, “that they are performing unethical tests on humans in there.”

Gavin’s eyes widened. “No shit?” 

Nines looked at him blandly. Gavin coughed, looking out the window. Smooth. “Yes. I want to get to the bottom of it before anyone else is hurt.”

“Anyone  _ else?”  _ Gavin asked, whipping back around to look at the guy. “Have people been hurt before?” 

“More than you could ever understand.” Nines wasn’t looking at him now. He had turned his head to face the window, staring out at the darkness just outside. “I’ve been keeping track of the delivery schedules for awhile now. The comings and goings of shipments and the guards. I should have been able to get in tonight. Something changed.”

Christ. This sounded a hell of a lot more serious than it had on the phone. Drug trafficking would have been the best way to get a cop’s attention given the current state of things and the ongoing Red Ice taskforce that never seemed to make enough ground, but human experimentation? Unethical big-pharm testing? That was insane. Way above Gavin’s paygrade, that was for sure. 

“What changed?” he asked, unable to help himself. He had thought nailing a huge drug bust would be good for his career, but that had nothing on something like this. “And wait, let’s go back a minute here. What proof do you have? Pictures? Testimonials? Do you have someone on the inside feeding you this information?”

Nines snorted, the sound wry and nasty. “Do I have someone inside? You could say that, Detective. And I don’t know what changed. Something was off tonight and I don’t like it one bit.” He glanced Gavin’s way sparingly. “I didn’t think you would respond to my call so quickly either. Thank you for intervening. If you can drop me off at the motel a few minutes from here, I can get out of your hair.”

Gavin let out a disbelieving scoff. “Excuse me? That’s it? Just drop you off after all of that? Um, no. We are not even remotely done talking, Mister Nines the Reporter. You just dumped a bombshell of a case in my lap and if I’m going to do anything about it, I need more information. And access to your source on the inside.”

Blanching, Nines bit his lip. 

“You gotta tell me something,” Gavin persistented. “I risked a lot saving your ass from the goon squad back there. Come on. Give me something so I know this isn’t some big snipe hunt.”

“I don’t need your help,” Nines muttered. “If you want to look into things yourself, you’re more than free to. But I don’t need you, Detective. I don’t have to share anything with you.”

“Because doing things on your own is working so well for you,” Gavin finished for him, rolling his eyes. “Ever heard of a little thing called obstruction of justice? If there’s something going on in there, I need to know what it is so I can do something about it. Don’t you want justice to be served? Why don’t we work together? If you’ve got a source and I’ve got the badge, we could probably get a lot more done together than we would alone.”

Crossing his arms tightly across his chest, Nines flicked his eyes towards him, then away. “It’s… my brother,” he admitted quietly, something dark passing over his face. “My brother is in there. I… can’t risk him getting hurt.”

Gavin stalled, momentum lost at that bombshell of a revelation. It made more sense, suddenly, why he’d found the guy sidling along the edge of the property, dressed like a thief and willing to stare down a group of armed guards without so much as a flinch. Leaning back in his seat, Gavin let out a breath. “Well, fuck,” he said articulately. “Guess you’ve got a pretty big stake in all of this then.”

Nines nodded silently. He held himself tighter.

“You know, that’s all the more reason to work together.” Gavin looked in the rearview mirror at the glinting lights of the facility behind them. “You’ve got your reasons, I’m willing to help. I don’t know much about taking on this kind of group, but something tells me you can use all the help in your corner you can get.”

“And what do you get out of it?” 

Gavin looked at Nines. Nines looked at him. There was something dark living behind those blue eyes, something twisting and turning and unreadable. In the pale light of the night, Gavin caught sight of a thin scar circling the base of Nines’s pale neck. Almost as if he’d been cut there. Curiosity prickled in his stomach, but it felt like a story too heavy for the moment. There were a lot of secrets lingering in this car. He didn’t really have the stomach to add more to the already overwhelming load. 

Shrugging, Gavin decided to play it cool. “Another mark in my record that will impress the higher ups,” he said simply. “The knowledge that another bunch of scumbags are off the street and unable to hurt anyone ever again. Same as any other case. This is my job, if you didn’t notice. I’m going to look into things either way; you might as well benefit from my access to things while I’m at it.”

Nines shifted in his seat. He loosened his arms and tapped his fingers along the armrest. “And you can get access to things, right?” He stared into Gavin’s eyes and something heavy settled along his shoulders. The shadows felt tangible, weighty. A pressure like he’d never felt before. “You aren’t lying about that?”

“If a detective wants to walk around a private facility, it’s really not that hard to make happen.” Gavin had done similar things in past cases. Big groups like this rarely asked to see a warrant. If they asked for one it was evidence enough that there was probably something shifty going on. Better to act natural, deflect attention. Hell, maybe they would try to slip him a bribe and the proof would be right there. “I can get inside, get phone numbers, expense reports. If I have probable cause and can convince my superiors, I can get a hell of a lot more besides.”

Gavin held out his hand then and Nines stared at it. The mood was heavy, expectant. “I’m not asking you to crawl into bed with me,” he said, aiming for joking but regretting it pretty quickly. Nines didn’t even quirk a smile. “It’s mutually beneficial. Think about it. Who knows where you’ll get another guy like me to bail you out again. Right, Billy?”

The corner of Nines’s lips threatened to twitch. Gavin considered it a win, even as his hand hovered in the air, untouched. Those piercing blue eyes met his. Nines licked his lips. 

“If I agree to this… you promise to help me get in there? No questions asked?”

“Well, within reason,” Gavin said, narrowing his eyes. “I’ve got to do my job still. I can’t let you do anything that would jeopardize my case.”

Something passed over Nines’s face. A twitch of the lips, a flicker of the eyes. He lifted his hand and clasped Gavin’s firmly. “I think I can work with that,” he said. 

“Great,” Gavin murmured, sensing something electric pass between them. Something that didn’t comfort him but did… excite him. He let go of Nines’s hand. He looked over his shoulder at the facility in the distance and took in a shaky, thrilled breath. 

He didn’t really know what he just signed on for, but something told him it was going to be anything but boring. 


	6. Chapter 6

The hustle and bustle of the bullpen was a familiar sort of whitenoise to Gavin as he dug through the latest batch of newspaper articles related to the facility and their alleged crimes against humanity. 

The papers covered the gamut of the place’s existence, some dating back to the early sixties while others were fresh off the press just the day prior. He had separated them by decade, then created more piles depending on the general tone of the piece. To his left went the articles dealing with fluff pieces or general updates regarding construction or changes to their operation procedures. Things that didn’t matter much. To the right, though, went the important things. Op-eds on testing, the sorts of pharmaceuticals on trial behind their walls, instances of deaths or injuries from accidents that never quite squared up with the reports given by the PR team. 

There were a lot of those, he found. A concerning amount.

There were enough inconsistencies and first-hand testimonials to get the higher ups on board, but that hardly meant that Gavin was in the clear just yet. He’d gotten the captain to take notice of the issue and had tenuous permission to begin further investigation. Interviews and spot inspections were the name of the game now. Coupled with the steady stream of information Nines kept feeding him, Gavin figured they would be ready to make a move in a few weeks, maybe less if Nines offered more than just the scraps he’d deigned to give thus far. 

Gavin huffed to himself, flipping through the current newspaper with a little more gusto than was strictly necessary. Fat chance of that happening. If there was one thing he’d learned in his short time of knowing the reporter, it was that Nines embraced his cryptic aesthetic to a tee. What a disappointment. The guy was hot enough to take notice of; if he had it in him to be a little less reserved, Gavin might consider doing something about it once this was all said and done. 

On his desk came a rattle. Gavin looked down as his cell phone screen lit up with a text message. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered, picking it up and opening the lock screen. Nines didn’t text him often. Half of their conversation was Gavin sending messages and getting no response, and even when he did, Nines barely registered his questions; he just offered his own terse information and ignored whatever Gavin sent back. This time didn’t look any different. Gavin had asked him if he had any idea who was in charge of the supposed human testing, and in response got nothing even approaching that topic. 

_ Nines: My sources say that there was recently a few layoffs internally. Security will be scattered and understaffed for the next month while they vet new guards. Plan to go inside within two, more details to follow.  _

Gavin’s brows rose towards his hairline. How did he… Why did he…? What? Just… what? Gavin looked at the far wall, squinting at the clock to see if he could read it. He’d heard that you couldn’t read in dreams, so— Oh. Yeah, he could read that. He looked back down at his phone and tried to reconcile Nines and the idea that he seemed to think they were in some kind of spy movie or something. How else could he explain getting a text like this?

Gavin shot off a quick reply.  _ What the hell are you intending to do?  _ The text status went to  _ read  _ immediately, telling him that Nines still had his phone open. After a few moments though, it became clear that he wasn’t going to get a reply. Typical. 

He sent another text, this one asking after his sanity. They couldn’t just break into the place. They needed to have a warrant, probable cause. The mountain of newspaper articles in front of him almost gave them the latter, but there was no way in hell they’d get the former without at least someone inside coming forward about the shit happening behind those walls. Gavin tried to articulate all of these things as best he could—clearly, Nines wasn’t all too bright—but in the end it didn’t do any good. Nines had closed his phone, and the messages went unread. 

Swearing to himself, Gavin set his phone down and dragged his hands down his face. They were really going to break in, weren’t they? Two weeks. Christ. He’d have to do all he could to talk some sense into the idiot before then, but he knew he’d have to go in with him. If he didn’t, Nines would just go alone, and they both remembered how bad that had gone for him the last time. 

Gavin let out a loud sigh. He dropped his hands and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. What a fucking mess. 

He gazed around the bullpen, wondering vaguely how his life had gotten so off track. Breaking into a secure facility… If the human testing wasn’t actually real, he’d get fired for sure. But if it was… God, the things it would do for his career. It was the only thing keeping him from deleting Nines’s number from his phone to be honest. Well, that and the fact that if Nines wasn’t crazy, he could have some potential in him for a good time. 

A door opened somewhere behind him, a few people streaming in from the lobby. It was a slow day for the most part, the vast majority of detectives and officers either off for the weekend or out patrolling. Gavin let his eyes go foggy as the group passed his desk, some branching off to head towards the break room while others went to various desks. One figure stayed close though, pausing beside Anderson’s desk. Gavin watched without much interest as Hank swivelled around and smiled, greeting the person warmly. 

That was weird. Hank barely ever smiled at people anymore. Gavin blinked a few times, kicking his feet up to rest on his desk. He stared at the person’s back, taking in their height, hair color, and the way they moved their hands. There was something familiar about it. 

His eyes strayed to his phone for a moment. Like sand moving through an hourglass grain by grain, Gavin’s thoughts coalesced until they formed an obvious, if belated, conclusion. 

Holy fucking  _ shit.  _

Gavin stood up, gobsmacked. Was that— Jesus Christ, it was! What the fuck was that idiot doing here? Nines had texted him just yesterday saying he was too busy this week to get together, and yet he apparently had time to stroll casually through the precinct like he owned the place? Was that why he ignored his replies? Because he was here at the precinct, already distracted with something else? God, if that fucker was working with another detective, he’d…

Well, Gavin wasn’t sure what he’d do, but it wouldn’t be fucking pretty. This was  _ his  _ case, and Nines was his informant, not anyone else’s.

Pushing away from his desk, Gavin locked eyes on the back of that head and stomped his way through the bullpen towards it. From behind Nines looked a little different than he had the last time Gavin had seen him; instead of his sleek black turtlenecks and gray-washed jeans, he wore some skinny blue jeans and a goofy looking plaid button up. He was resting his hip against… Holy shit, that was Hank’s desk, wasn’t it? What was he doing with Anderson? Fucking god, if that old fuck sniped his case out from under him—

Gavin grabbed him by the shoulder, spitting out, “What the  _ fuck  _ do you think you’re doing here?” as he yanked him around to look him in the eye. 

Shockingly enough, instead of a pair of bright blue eyes glaring coldly back at him, Gavin was met with soft brown, wide, frightened, and clearly not the person he had thought it was. 

“Um…. Excuse me?” the man mumbled, recoiling until he slipped away from Gavin’s hold. “Did you need something from me, Detective Reed?”

Dumbstruck, Gavin could only stare. It was… terrifying how much this guy looked like Nines. The face shape, the brown hair, the mouth… Nines’s face was sharper, his body a bit bulkier than this guy’s, but God, they could have been twins. 

Well, the stark difference in their politeness levels aside. 

“Reed? The hell are you on?” came Hank’s angry voice next, the man rising out of his seat to pull the lookalike away from him. 

“I was… um…” Gavin didn’t know what to say, and it became clear that all eyes in the bullpen were now on him. He took a step back and put up his hands, cheeks growing warm in the wake of what clearly had been a mistake. “Sorry, I just thought—”

“Thought what? That our IT guy shouldn’t be up here?”

Gavin’s eyes widened. He looked past Hank and at the lookalike, something clicking in the back of his head. Hank sighed and covered his face with a hand, falling back into his chair. “Christ, Reed. Did you seriously forget who Connor was? What am I saying, you probably never even knew his name to begin with, did you?”

“I… Well, fuck me for getting confsued. I just thought… he looked like someone I knew.” That was a thing though, right? Doppelgangers… Gavin rubbed the back of his neck and did his best not to scowl in his embarrassment. “But clearly it’s not him. Just… Connor. From IT.”

“You’ve never even looked at him before, have you?” Hank guessed, leaning back in his chair, his previous anger giving way to an almost tenuous amount of mirth. He looked at Connor from IT and laughed a little. “Don’t take it too hard, okay? Reed can’t be expected to pay attention to anything that isn’t wrapped in police tape. Isn’t that right, Reed?”

“Laugh it up, Anderson,” Gavin said through clenched teeth. “Some of us actually take care of our things. And it’s not like he’s working on your desktop right now,” he pointed out, gesturing at how the two of them were situated, obviously shooting the breeze. 

Connor turned bright pink. He glanced at Hank and couldn’t seem to make himself look Gavin in the eye. “Right. That’s… I’m— I’m gonna just go,” he announced, grabbing his things from Hank’s desk and fumbling them into some semblance of order in his arms. “Your internet should work now. I’ll… see you later, Hank?”

Hank wasn’t bothered in the slightest. He just leaned back in his chair and smiled like the bastard he was. “No problem, Con. See you later.”

They shared a smile that Gavin hadn’t wanted to pay witness to before Connor peeled away and disappeared towards the elevator bank that would take him back to the dungeon reserved for the tech nerds. Gavin and Hank both watched him leave. 

“So,” Gavin mused, turning back to face the lieutenant. “How long has that been a thing?”

Hank colored a little, his cheeks flushing beneath his beard. “None of your business, Reed. Did you need something when you came over here?”

Well, he hadn’t when he came over, but if Hank had the time… “You got time to look at a lead I’m pursuing?” Gavin posed, resting his hip against the man’s desk. The lieutenant might have the bad sense to fuck where he worked, but he had good instincts about most things and at this point, Gavin could use any help he could get. “There’s a lot of angles and I need a new set of eyes.”

Hank sighed and shrugged. “Can I get a coffee first?”

Gavin pushed away from the desk and let the man get up. “Meet me at my desk in ten, and get me one too.” The request earned him a glare but Hank still nodded anyway, sauntering off towards the break room without another word.

Gavin moved back to his desk, cleaning up the newsprint until it looked a bit tidier. He glanced at his phone and saw that Nines still hadn’t replied to him, the asshole. So much for letting him know about his supposed doppelganger; if the guy was gonna ghost him like this, he didn’t deserve to know. 

He’d just keep that little embarrassment to himself, thank you very much. 

—

Gavin jolted when the passenger side door of his car opened without warning. He shot a glare at a familiar pair of blue eyes. “You could fucking knock, you know,” he muttered, sitting up in his seat to give off the impression of readiness. He’d been waiting at that section of the road he’d fondly begun to refer to as “theirs” for over an hour now and had given up on the desire to look cool after the first thirty minutes with no audience. “Or just be on fucking time. What happened to us meeting at two?”

Nines sidled into the passenger seat smoothly, all dark lines and shadowy intrigue. “I got held up,” he said simply, eyes practically glowing in the light coming off the dashboard.

“Oh, yeah?” Gavin mused, crossing his arms over his chest. He would never understand how Nines could make a bland color scheme look so regal with just a tilt to his chin. The reporter was talented in a lot of ways, and plenty of them weren’t related to his job. “By what?”

“By none of your business, Detective,” came the smooth reply followed by a narrowing of the eyes. Nines gave him a once over and thankfully seemed content with the nondescript clothing he’d told Gavin to opt for tonight. “Are you ready to do this?”

“That depends on what you’re intending to do.” The texts leading up to this had been sparse to say the least, and every time they met face to face left Gavin with the inclination that Nines wasn’t all too eager to keep things low key. Gavin had most of the casework ready to go, but they needed evidence before they could truly make a move. “We’re just going inside for reconnaissance, right? I didn’t sign on for any heroics tonight, and I want to make sure we’re on the same page with that.”

Nines looked at him. Like, really  _ looked  _ at him. “If I see my brother in there, I’m not leaving him behind.”

“That’s…” Gavin swallowed, caught between duty and his own sense of right and wrong. He couldn’t stand by and let Nines jeopardize everything because of his emotions, but Christ, if it was all real, if his brother really was behind held in there… “We’re playing it by ear,” he decided, squeezing the steering wheel of his car. “We can’t accomplish everything in one day. If we see an opportunity, we can take it, but we can’t put ourselves at risk too, Nines. You’re no good to your brother if you do something stupid and get us both arrested before we can help him.”

Puckering his lips, Nines looked out the passenger side window. He stared into the darkness, body still and stiff like a statue. “Alright,” he said quietly, so quietly that Gavin barely heard him. 

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.” Gavin checked his pockets, making sure everything he needed was there. He’d need to take plenty of pictures. He pulled his phone off the car charger and tucked it into his coat pocket. “You ready to do this?”

Instead of answering, Nines simply opened the door and got out, leaving Gavin to scramble to do the same.

The walk towards the facility was a silent one, made heavy by the weight of what they were about to do. Gavin couldn’t stop staring at the searchlights drawing bright beams of light across the sky, his thoughts racing at the possibility of being seen, of being shot by the guards Nines swore were still understaffed. This was such a bad idea. If he got his ass shot because of this, he was definitely going to hit Nines right between the eyes. 

They hopped the fence and made it to the loading dock without incident. Unlike the last time Gavin had taken a stroll down these roads, he didn’t see any sign of the guards doing their regular patrols. He eyed a few security cameras up on tall posts, but when he tugged on Nines’s sleeve and pointed up at them, Nines just shook his head. 

“Don’t worry about them,” he said, the shadows behind him looming against the slate grey wall of the loading dock like something alive. “I’ve already dealt with the cameras. The only thing we need to worry about are guards.”

“What do you mean, you’ve dealt with them?” Gavin wondered, watching Nines kneel before the door and do something to the lock out of sight. Picking it…? Whatever he did happened fast. The lock fell to the ground with a dull clank, and Nines rose back to his feet, eyes intent on what lay behind the door. 

He never did end up getting an answer to his question. It was forgotten in the wake of actually getting inside the building, no alarms rising up to shatter the night and no shouting security guards to put a damper on the adrenaline high slowly taking over Gavin’s body. They moved through the loading dock, Nines leading the way as if he’d been here before. There wasn’t much to see. Gavin kept his eyes forward, a hand on his phone in his pocket, and waited until they found their way someplace a little more interesting. 

Nines swiped a card he pulled from his pocket and opened a door at the back of the loading dock. “Did you steal that?” Gavin asked, watching it go back into his tight jeans.

“A while ago,” Nines said quietly, shouldering open the door carefully, peeking through the crack before opening it wide. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You know, a lot of your answers boil down to that. You ever noticed that?” Gavin commented as he followed Nines into a long hallway. A camera blinked at him from the other end, but he trusted Nines and didn’t let it scare him. The alarms would have gone off already if those things were actually seeing them. “If we want to take these fuckers to court you’re gonna have to start being a bit more forthcoming.”

“That’s a long way off,” Nines said, not letting him see his face. He swiped his card again and opened the next door. Out of the corner of Gavin’s eye he thought he saw a speck of black move from the ceiling towards the floor. He looked over and saw nothing, writing it up as his imagination. “Pay attention. We’re entering the main building now.”

Gavin sucked in a breath and steeled his nerves. He kept close to Nines, heart pounding as he entered the next part of the building.

The inside of the facility was about what Gavin had expected it to be. Hearing about illegal human testing made a person think of horror movies and sci fi spaceships and the like, but the reality of it was pretty mundane. The lobby was dark and clean, shiny linoleum reflecting the security lights in even, regular bursts. Gavin did his best to walk quietly, but he had nothing on Nines in that department. The man moved as if he was made of shadow, his footfalls silent and his movements confident. 

“Do you know where to go from here?” Gavin asked quietly, doing all he could to keep up. He was the one dose of restraint between them, and if he lost sight of Nines, all of that would be for nothing.

The nod Nines gave was sharp and clipped. He cut through the foyer with clear knowledge of where he was going and what to do. How long had he been planning this break in? Gavin regretted not doing a background check on him to learn more. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was actually aiding and abetting some kind of corporate espionage. Some sob story about a captive brother would be right up that sort of alley, getting him on board to flash his badge and open some doors just to smooth the way… It was too late to worry about it now since Gavin had gone for it, but the doubt couldn’t keep from creeping back up. 

“Through here,” Nines said, the words barely vocalized as he directed them towards a door clearly marked as staff only. There was a datapad by it this time, not another card scanner. Nines covered it with his body before Gavin could get a good glimpse at what he intended to do. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, distracting Gavin enough to make up for it. “Once we go through here, there won’t be time to turn back. The guards will be doing patrols. We have to move fast.”

“Don’t worry about me, 007.” Gavin’s foot wouldn’t stop tapping against the floor. His nerves were alive, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. “Just get me to where the evidence is and we’ll be out of here before they notice.”

The door beeped quietly, the panel flashing green. Whatever Nines had done to it, it had worked. “Then, let’s go,” said the man quietly, pushing through the door carefully. His hand reached back and snagged Gavin by the wrist, almost as if he were moving by instinct. Gavin stared at their hands, Nines’s skin surprising cold against his. 

“Alright,” Gavin said, some heat rising to his cheeks. “Lead the way.”

They moved slowly, keeping close to the walls as they delved deeper into the facility’s innards. Nines definitely had a floor plan of the place memorized, of that there was no doubt. He seemed to know the place intimately, pausing here and there, waiting as guards strolled by with guns clearly holstered at their hips. Gavin held his breath every time they passed by. Thankfully, they all seemed too tired and bored to look around very much, their focus staying on what was immediately in front of them and not much besides. 

“Through here,” Nines whispered eventually, pressing his lips directly to Gavin’s ear. He nodded towards a door with frosted glass windows, obscuring whatever was inside it. “You can find what you need in there.”

Gavin, stunned by the proximity and just a little distracted by that soft, low voice practically crooning in his ear, nodded along dumbly, not really understanding what he had just been told. It wasn’t until Nines tugged him forward and towards it that he snapped back to awareness, eagerly reaching for his phone as Nines worked his magic on the door panel once again.

The door opened with a quiet hiss. Gavin and Nines rushed inside, the sound of another guard’s boots growing louder with every passing moment. They got inside before the man turned the corner though, and Gavin breathed a sigh of relief before assessing the room that held his supposed evidence.

It was clearly a laboratory, one filled to the brim with expensive looking equipment and testing apparatuses. Gavin’s eyes went wide, and he pushed past Nines to take in the focal point of the room. His stomach twisted and something bitter rose to coat the back of his tongue. “Oh my god,” he muttered, pulling his phone out of his pocket and fumbling through the lock screen. “Are those… bloodstains?”

Nines looked, but only for a moment. His face had gone pale and he kept close to the door. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Get your photographs quickly. I don’t want to stay here long.”

Gavin couldn’t blame him. The gurney in the center of the room looked positively medieval, covered in thick leather straps and stains that couldn’t have been put there without a lot of pain and struggle in the process. Around the room were plenty of other questionable things as well. Jars of drugs and vials of what looked like blood samples in centrifuges. He opened the camera app and got down to business.

“This is good stuff,” Gavin said, snapping pictures furiously, zooming in and backing up just to make sure he had as many angles as he could possibly get. These things clearly weren’t meant for standard tests. Who the fuck would need straps like that if what they were doing was above board? Gavin turned his head, hands still snapping away, to look at Nines. “This is plenty to get a case going… Hey, where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

While he had been distracted, Nines had been creeping every closer to the door. His eyes didn't stray from it, even as Gavin spoke, and he moved as if possessed, head cocked to the side like a dog that had heard its owner’s voice somewhere out of its line of sight. He took a step forward, and then another. 

Gavin lowered his phone. “Nines?” What the fuck was up with him? “We’ve got the evidence. Let’s get out of here.” He took a step forward to try and grab the guy by the arm, to shake him out of whatever daze he was in. His foot caught on the leg of a gurney though, and he stumbled a bit, bracing himself before he could fall.

It would have been an innocuous thing if only Nines hadn’t taken it as an opportunity to dart out the door completely.

Gavin’s jaw dropped. He threw himself forward, shooting out his hand to snatch the guy by the shirt, but Nines seemed to slip through his fingers like water. “Get back here!” he hissed, mindful of the guards who were clearly still making their rounds. “This wasn’t part of the plan!”

“Not your plan maybe,” Nines answered, sparing him just a single glance over his shoulder as he neared the silver-plated door. Well, that proved that he wasn’t in some weird fugue state out of shock or something. Gavin let out a stifled growl and chased after him, knowing this could only end badly.

He didn’t manage to catch up to Nines until the man had forced open the doors and entered the lab, and by that time they had gone too far to go back now. Gavin slowed his pursuit and stared at the strange green lights flooding the space, at the weird examination tables and shelves full of vials and jars with illegible specimen names scrawled over the labels. It looked like something out of a mad scientist’s lab, and it sent shivers down his spine when he thought about how much of this stuff was probably capable of fucking a human up beyond recognition. 

“What is this place?” he said aloud, glancing over at Nines who had paused near the end of the room, attention occupied entirely by a long, ceiling-high pane of glass blacked out to hide what was behind it. “How did you know to come back here?”

Nines stared into the darkness of the glass. He pressed his hands to it, eyes wide, face slack. “I can feel him,” he said distantly, so much so that Gavin couldn’t be sure he was answering him or just stating an independent fact. Gavin moved closer to him, hand reaching for his cell phone. They needed to take pictures of this place. They needed to get proof if they wanted to make this whole shitshow worth it. 

“Feel who?” he asked, snapping some photos of the beakers, the test tubes, the worrying restraints attached to the gurney in the center of the room. “What’s in there? Some kind of special lab area or something?”

Nines stayed silent. His hand moved towards a panel on the wall, and… God, it must have been a trick of the light or something, but Gavin could have sworn he saw something emerge from the guy’s hand. It was only out of the corner of his eye that he saw it though; he must have just imagined it. Nines pressed something with something and the black glass turned transparent. The moment it did, Nines gasped, going pale. 

“What?” Gavin demanded, putting on some speed to join him in front of the glass. He kept his eyes on Nines until he was next to him. “What’s wrong—” And then he turned, seeing what Nines was seeing. 

It wasn’t a lab behind the glass, but a cell, and the cell held an occupant. Gavin’s phone slipped through his fingers, clattering to the floor. The sound roused the body mounted to the wall on the other side of the glass, which Gavin wasn’t sure was possible. The body didn’t… didn’t have a head, Gavin could see the thing locked into some contraption on a table, so how—?

“Silas,” Nines croaked, hands pressed to the glass. “Oh, what did they do to you?”

“Silas?” Gavin wheezed, every hair on his body standing on end. 

If  _ that  _ was Nines’s brother… then what the fuck did that make Nines?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope yall enjoy the penultimate chapter! only one more to go!

Answers didn’t come to Gavin in the order he would have preferred. Nines had different priorities, and he made that clear when he coated his hand in something black and sent it flying towards the glass wall separating them from the headless, moving body lashed to the table on the other side. 

A siren rose up as glass rained down on the cement floor. Red, flashing lights blinded Gavin in an instant. Over a loudspeaker rose up a tinny, mechanical voice: INTRUDER ALERT INTRUDER ALERT ALL FORCES MOVE TO CONTAINMENT BREACH INTRUDER AL—

“Watch the door!” Nines shouted over the sudden din, cutting through the glistening, glass-covered space to yank at the restraints holding that headless body—Silas—to the gurney. 

Gavin wanted to watch Nines, but the blaring of that alarm told him that there was a time to gawk and a time to prioritize, and this was definitely one of the latter. He tore his eyes from the sight of that moving, twitching body to dart over to the door, ducking his head out just in time to hear the sound of boots pounding against the tile floor. “Fuck,” he muttered, ducking back inside. “Nines, we’ve got company coming!”

“I’ve almost got him!” Nines shot back, Silas stumbling off the gurney and into his arms. A tendril of that same black shadow or energy or— whatever it was shot off Nines’s body, pulling a head-sized object free from a glass container off against the wall. “Come on, Sy, I’ve got you. Can you move? It’s alright. I can carry you—”

The door burst open behind Gavin, clipping his shoulder and sending him to the floor. A wave of armored men swarmed into the room. Gavin caught sight of the barrel of a gun not even three inches from his face before he closed his eyes and braced himself for pain. This was it, wasn’t it? Fuck, he’d done stupider things for a pretty face, but he really hadn’t planned to go out like this—

A gunshot rang out. Screams followed. Gavin cracked an eye and watched as a maelstrom of black shadows tore through the guards’ ranks, slamming grown men against walls as easily as if they were made of paper. A few let out pained screams as sharp, pointed spears cut through their armor, stabbing them in the legs, the arms, the chests. Red joined the black, staining the pristine white tile. Gavin felt something latch onto him from behind. 

“Get up, Gavin!” Nines yelled, one hand caught in the leather of his coat. “We have to move, now!”

Silas was hoisted over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, the black-wrapped bundle—ostensibly Silas’s head—cradled under his arm. Gavin rose to his feet, stumbling and slipping on the wet blood now coating the ground, and let Nines pull him through the doorway and into the hall. 

“You— You just…” Gavin couldn’t get his tongue to articulate what he’d just seen, so he left it at that. 

Nines’s sharp blue eyes glanced at him sparingly. “C’mon,” he said, ignoring the question buried in the things Gavin didn’t say. “We have to find where they’re keeping him.”

What? “We need to get out of here,” Gavin countered, the sound of approaching footsteps cutting through the fear response now coursing firmly through his veins. “Oh, Christ. There’s more coming.” He tried to move them away from the lab rooms and back towards where they had come from. Nines, however, stayed put.

“Nines,” Gavin urged, yanking on the hand still holding his jacket. Or he tried to until Nines let go of him and began to move in the opposite direction. “Nines!”

Nines’s eyes were wide, hunted when he turned on Gavin and shouted, “I’m not leaving without Connor!” 

Connor—? Fuck, Nines’s other brother. “We don’t have time for this!” Gavin growled, grabbing Nines by the arm and yanking him and Silas both away from the other containment rooms. “Listen to me, Nines! You’re no good to him if you get caught now! Do you want them to get Silas again? We have to go, now!” 

Nines grimaced in actual pain. He looked down at Silas in his arms and let out a pained cry before turning away from the hall. Gavin tightened his grip on his arm. “Come on,” he said, pushing them into movement, taking them back the way they had come. “Let’s get the fuck out of here!”

Easier said than done. Nines was strong, intensely strong, but even he couldn’t run full speed while carrying a limp body. Gavin had to slow down for him, one hand clinging to the man’s sleeve as they ducked down halls and pressed themselves against corners to avoid the armed men stampeding down the hallways. Black shadows, liquid and sticky, helped them hide when the architecture didn’t.

Gavin wanted to ask about that. He wanted to ask about that  _ so  _ much, but now clearly wasn’t the time for it. They were just about at the atrium, and he had no illusions that getting out would be as simple as it had been getting it. That room was large, massive even, and there hadn’t been many places to seek cover. And getting past that… Could they even make it back to the loading dock? Wouldn’t that have been locked down by now?

There was no time to ask any of these questions, and Nines didn’t seem capable of answering them either. Not when they turned the next corner, burst through the locked door with another blast of that black shadow shit, and tumbled their way to a dead halt as a wave of security guards pointed their guns at them, blocking the hall completely. 

“Oh, fucking shit,” Gavin swore, instinctivley putting Nines behind him. Silas was still out of commission, and one glance at Nines told him that the man was exhausted, nearly at his limit’s end. He hadn’t brought his gun with him either, even if he could stomach the thought of shooting his way out of this place. But maybe that sentiment was misplaced; just a glance at the guards in front of him told him well enough that they were under orders not to let anyone who had done what they had just done leave this place alive. 

One of the guards towards the rear toggled on a radio mounted on his shoulder. “Intruders located and cornered. Lose the alarm.”

The alarm went silent. The lights kept flashing though, adding a surreal edge to the moment. 

“Drop the test subject and put your hands in the air,” that voice called out, sharp and clearly in no mood to play good-cop. “Any move from either of you and we’ll fill you both with lead.”

“Captain, the tall one has constructs out,” reported one of the guards holding an illegal looking assault rifle in minutely shaking hands. 

“Looks like our missing test subject found its way home.”

Gavin felt Nines let out a low growl. He moved back a step and bumped into Nines’s chest, latching onto the man’s hip and holding him back. With his other hand, Gavin slowly reached for his badge. 

“I’m Detective Gavin Reed from the DPD,” he called out, freezing when the guns twitched at the first sign of movement on his part. “I can show you my badge.”

The captain of the guard shared a look with another masked gunman. From the tilt of their masks Gavin could tell they were grinning. Fucking assholes. “A detective? You’re pretty out of your jurisdiction, cop.”

Gavin fought back a grimace. There was no way to lie and say that he was here for official business. Even an idiot would know this wasn’t proper police procedure, even for undercover operatives. Add in the damage Nines did to those stormtroopers in the laboratory… Things didn’t look promising for them. 

“My superior knows I’m here,” Gavin said, going for broke. These men would kill them— kill him, at least, and lock away Nines and his brother, and they’d do it without a shred of guilt after the fact. The only way he could fix this was to make sure they knew he’d be missed. Cops didn’t go missing quietly.

The captain snorted. Clearly, he wasn’t buying it. He made a gesture with his hand and every gun moved to point at Gavin. Nines sucked in a sharp breath behind him. 

“Don’t hit the merchandise,” the captain ordered. 

For the second time that night, Gavin closed his eyes tight and braced for pain. 

What happened next defied explanation. Gavin  _ heard  _ the guns fire. He  _ felt  _ the displacement of air, smelled the hot metal, the acrid sting of gun smoke, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that those men had fired at him. But instead of pain, instead of the burning he expected to feel tearing through his body, he felt nothing. 

Nothing but air and the solid warmth of Nines’s chest plastered against his back. 

Then, the screaming began. The ground beneath his feet shook. The walls around him let out a tremble. Gavin cracked open an eye but saw nothing but more blackness. He felt Nines but couldn’t see him. The sounds grew louder. Beneath it all, he felt like he recognized the scream that sounded loudest of all. 

It was Nines, he realized. And Nines wasn’t screaming in pain. 

It didn’t last for long. Or maybe it did. Gavin lost track of it all by the time the black curtain over his vision began to dissipate and gave way to light once more. He stared at his surroundings and felt bile rise up in the back of his throat. He stumbled backwards, caught himself against Nines’s chest, and looked up at the monster with the pretty face, watching him pant for breath as the world coalesced around them and placed them at the epicenter of utter carnage.

The walls that had stood around them were no more. The ground was awash in reds and blacks, the retreating shadows lost in the tangled, mangled black-armor clad limbs that had once been the guards bearing down on them. Gavin’s legs gave out and he collapsed onto his knees. The scent of fresh blood stung his nose, scratching at the back of his throat. 

“How?” he croaked weakly. “Just… how?”

But Gavin didn’t get an answer. He wasn’t really sure he wanted one. His ears were ringing worse than after an afternoon at the gun range, so maybe he wouldn’t have heard it even if none of that applied. It took Nines’s hand on his elbow to force him back to his feet, and then a hand routinely shoving him to keep him moving as he swayed through the wreckage and bodies and made for the hole in the wall. Vertigo and bedrock dust weighed down on him as he moved. It coated his tongue, acrid and dry. Christ. Just…

They cleared the crumbling foundations and stumbled into the darkness. The sound of their labored breathing felt loud enough to wake the goddamn dead. 

“Almost there, Sy,” Gavin heard Nines say, and maybe he had been saying it all along. It felt like a mantra when it came out of his mouth. One meant for himself more than his brother. “Almost there, Sy. Almost there.”

Gavin wasn’t sure how they made it to the car. It felt unreal that they would be able to just leave after something like that, but either Nines’s blast had taken out the guard tower too or anyone left alive was too busy getting out of the rubble to dedicate much effort to hunting them down before they cleared the area. His heart pounded so loudly between his ears that all sound came off muted in comparison, and the drive back into town was spent in the same strange, floating state where he just did his best to keep them from wrapping around a telephone pole. Muscle memory was the real hero of this situation, that was for sure. Gavin wouldn’t have been able to pull the car into his garage without it. 

It had its limits though, and those limits presented themselves the moment he crossed the threshold and watched Nines carry his still headless brother into his fucking living room, the severed, blinking head going down on the coffee table like a discarded piece of macabre halloween decor. Gavin made a swipe for the lightswitch, a maneuver he’d managed a thousand times since he bought the place, but his hand just skimmed the wall ineffectively. His knees buckled when he tried to do it again.

He sank to the floor and let the wall prop him up from behind. Which was fine. The front windows weren’t curtained, so the light from the streets streamed in and made up for his lack of dexterity. It gave the room an otherworldly quality to it that suited the strangeness of the scene in front of him. Gavin watched Nines run his fingers through the head’s hair even as he held the body’s hand with the other.

Holy shit. Holy  _ fucking  _ shit. Gavin was living in a monster movie and no one had the decency to clue him in on it until now. 

“What… are you?”

Nines glanced at him as he situated his brother into a comfortable position. “Dullahans,” he answered, clearly trying for composure but falling very, very short of that. He kept touching Silas’s forehead, giving up on the coffee table to just pick the head up and set it on the couch with some artful manipulation of shadow. “Fae. Can you bring me a damp cloth?”

Gavin wanted to tell him that he wasn’t sure he could  _ walk,  _ let alone fetch things, but that felt like an assholish thing to say to a man bent over the prone, headless body of his brother. “Y-Yeah,” he said shakily, picking himself up off the ground with a hand braced on the wall behind him. His legs trembled a bit beneath his weight, but he managed to creep his way into the kitchen and grab a stray towel from the rack without incident. He ran it under the faucet and splashed his own face for good measure too. Fucking fae? He’d heard of a dullahan before, stories from his gran from way back when, but… Christ, it was real, wasn’t it? All of it was real. 

He suddenly regretted not paying more attention to her stories as a child. Maybe if he’d left out a saucer of milk for the brownies he’d have a better handle on all of this bullshit. 

Nines was grateful when he held out the damp cloth to him. He took it with an almost pitiful amount of worry in his eyes, turning back to his brother to wipe at his face gently. “Come on, Silas,” he whispered quietly. “Open your eyes. You’re safe now.”

Silas’s eyes did open, and Gavin felt like a dick for wishing they hadn’t because the sight of a severed head blinking and furrowing its brow made every hair on his body stand on end. Unlike Nines, Gavin noticed, Silas’s eyes were brown, familiar in a way that prickled at the base of his skull. His lips twitched as he looked up at his brother. “N-Nines?” he croaked. “Is… Is it really you?”

Holding tight to Silas’s hand, Nines nodded. “I found you,” he said, his smile watery and shaky. “I told you I’d come back for you.”

Silas’s chest rose abruptly, a sob rending the air. Tears fell from his eyes, staining his cheeks, and Gavin… felt very superfluous all of a sudden, watching this intimate, personal moment between them. He backed away and ran his fingers through his hair. The brothers embraced tightly, Silas’s sobs shaky and broken. 

“I’ll… be over here if you need me,” Gavin murmured, not sure if anyone heard him or even cared. There was probably a lot that Nines needed to talk to his brother about, lots of things that Gavin didn’t need to be privy to just yet, and even more besides that Gavin needed to deal with on his own. Namely, the reaction his boss was probably having at the news of the facility going up in flames like that. 

God, he’d forgotten about Fowler in all of that excitement. He needed to call him as soon as possible— and hopefully he would still had a job to go back to Monday. 

Gavin went into his bedroom for lack of a better place to be. His house wasn’t that large and his choices were limited to the bedroom or the bathroom, and he wasn’t about to have a difficult discussion with his boss in the bathroom of all places. He put his back to the freakshow playing out in his living room and pulled out his phone, turning it back on just in time to nearly drop it in response to the litany of notifications that rose up the second the screen lit up. He hit accept on the current call and put the phone to his ear. 

“Yeah?” he croaked. Christ. He probably should’ve gotten some water before doing this. It felt like he’d run ten miles in five minutes and gave himself a heart attack for a cool-down. “This is Reed.”

He immediately pulled the phone away from his ear as Fowler’s dulcet tones erupted from the device. “Reed!” he shouted, so far past angry that Gavin could tell he was approaching apoplectic. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling your ass for two hours!” 

Shit. He’d missed a check in, hadn’t he? Gavin glanced over at his alarm clock and winced at the number that blinked back at him. Scratch that. He’d missed four. 

“Yeah… sorry about that,” he muttered, dragging his hand through his hair and yanking on it too for good measure. “Some shit came up. Things got away from me.”

“Got away from you? Got  _ away  _ from you?! Reed, have you seen the fucking news?!”

“Uh… No?”

Fowler let out a gutsy sigh that crackled over the speaker. “You’re in for a long fucking talk tomorrow, Reed,” he said tiredly. “Whatever you did in that lab tonight… You better hope that it was worth it, because the amount of red tape you just tore through—”

“It was,” Gavin cut in, heart pounding for a different reason. He thought back to Silas’s tears, to Nines’s hand wrapped so tightly around his brother’s pale, shaking fingers. “They were performing illegal tests in their labs. I’ve got proof.”

There was a pause. “Proof?” Fowler echoed, suddenly a little less angry. “What kind of proof?”

“Photographs,” Gavin said. He paced a little, too jittery to stay still. “A witness too.”

“Gavin, you need to come down here now. We need to take statements.”

Gavin swallowed. He looked at his bedroom door, imagining the sight he might find on his couch just outside it. “Tomorrow,” he countered. “I’ll come in tomorrow.”

“Reed—”

“First thing,” Gavin interrupted, putting his foot down. “I can’t come in tonight. Just… cover until morning, okay? And trust me, Jeff. This can’t happen tonight.”

Silence echoed loudly across the line. Gavin closed his eyes tight, willing that it would be enough. 

“I want you in my office at eight tomorrow,” came the eventual reply. “If you’re even a minute late—”

“I won’t be,” Gavin said, letting it out in a rush as relief coursed through him. “I’ll be there. And Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

The connection crackled on another tired sigh. “Don’t thank me yet, Reed,” Fowler muttered. “Just make sure whatever you did tonight was worth all this fucking risk.” 

The line went dead before Gavin could assure him it was. Of course, the second it went dead just freed up his line for the next call. Gavin brought his phone away from his ear and looked at the caller ID. Hank Anderson. What the hell did he need this late at night? Thumbing over the accept icon, Gavin brought his phone back to his ear.

“Yeah?” he asked briskly. “What do you need, Anderson?”

Instead of shouting like Fowler had given him, Hank didn’t say anything at all. At least, not for a few moments. Gavin furrowed his brow and got ready to ask again, but before he could, Hank finally spoke. 

“What the hell did you do tonight, Gavin?”

Gavin. Not Reed. That was… different. “What do you mean, what did I do tonight?” he asked, pausing in his pacing to stare at the floor. “I told you I was on a case.”

“With that facility, right? The one you asked me to help you with, right?” 

“Yeah. What about it?”

Hank let out a shuddery breath. “Did you… find anything while you were there? Meet… someone?” On the other side of the phone, Gavin could just make out the sound of another voice whispering furtively at Hank. Something shifted. A hand over the receiver, muffling Hank’s voice as he told whoever was with him, “Yeah, calm down. I’m asking him, alright?”

“Who the hell are you with, Hank?” Gavin asked. “And what do you mean, did I meet someone?”

Hank snapped at the other person before the sound returned to full volume. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ve got Connor here with me. He woke me up after hearing something on the news and— Anyway, that’s not important. I just need to know if you found anything weird while you were out there. Like. Strange shit.”

Connor— “Connor from IT?” 

“Yeah, Connor from IT. But listen, Gavin, did you—”

The bottom dropped out of Gavin’s stomach as comprehension sank in. No wonder Silas looked so familiar. No wonder Nines did too. He’d thought Connor was a doppelganger, but… things weren’t that simple, were they? Not where Nines was involved. 

“Does the name Silas mean anything to you, Hank?” Gavin asked woodenly. “What about Nines?”

Hank was silent. The voice in the background kept on rambling away, and Gavin really couldn’t blame Connor for that, could he? He’d probably be losing his shit too if he saw some news report about the facility where his brother was being illegally held going up in flames without warning. 

“Gavin,” Hank said after a few minutes of nothing. “Do you… know?”

“Yeah,” he answered quietly. “I know. And they’re safe. Tell Connor they’re both safe, and they really want to know that he is too.”

“Christ. Can we see you tonight?” 

Gavin thought about Silas’s bone-white face and Nines’s panicked exhaustion. As much as they wanted to be together again, a shock like that might do more harm than good at the moment. “It’s been a hell of a night, Anderson,” Gavin said softly. “They’ve been through a lot. I’ve already told Fowler we’re all going to go down to the station first thing in the morning. Do you think…?”

“Right. Of course. Yeah. Don’t worry about it,” Hank said, picking up on the situation easily. There was a reason the man was a lieutenant after all, and it wasn’t because he wasn’t astute. “I’ll explain it all to Connor. So long as they’re both fine.”

Well, Silas was about as fine as could be expected after being found with his head separated from his body. But, given all Gavin knew about that particular brand of fae, he figured that wasn’t quite as bad as it could be for them. “They’re made of stronger stuff than we are,” Gavin hazarded to guess. “I’ll take care of them tonight. So… don’t worry too much about it.”

Hank sighed. The exhaustion colored the sound, even over the tinny little speaker. “Alright. We’ll see you tomorrow then. Get some rest, Gavin. It’s been a long night.”

Understatement of the century. “Yeah. See you tomorrow,” Gavin told him. It’d probably be an even more exhausting morning given all he had to look forward to, but at least everything would finally be over. 

He hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bed in front of him. Life was like a non-stop thrill ride. Revelations around every corner. A simple case couldn’t just be simple for him. Not with some mysterious bombshell involved. And seriously, what the actual fuck had all of this even been? What had his life become? Dullahans and fae and fucking Anderson already knew it all? Christ. 

A soft knock sounded on his bedroom door. Gavin lifted his head, shaking it to dislodge the thoughts before they could gain enough traction to turn into a tantrum. He’d forgotten, somehow, that he wasn’t alone. He was the rational one here. The one the emotionally fragile fae were going to turn to when they needed someone stable to rely on. 

And Christ almighty, wasn’t that a role reversal for him?

“Yeah?” he called, kneading at his eyes with both hands. “It’s open.”

The door creaked open as Nines quietly let himself in. His eyes glanced all over the room before finally settling on Gavin. “Sorry to intrude,” he murmured, dark circles underlying his eyes. Bits of bedrock and dust clung to his dark clothing, lightening his dark hair and muddying the brown until it looked ashen. Nines closed the door with his back, leaning against it until it clicked. He looked as exhausted as Gavin felt, which was saying something.

“It’s fine. How’s your brother?” Gavin rasped, collapsing onto the bed as his legs finally gave out beneath him. His muscles trembled. His hands were shaking. Huh. All that leftover adrenaline, probably. It was going to be a bitch getting to sleep tonight, that was for sure.

“Resting,” Nines said softly, looking at him with those unreadable blue eyes. “He’s been through a lot.”

“Is his…” Gavin gesturing towards his head, not sure how to word it without coming off manic. 

Nines pushed off the door and let out a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Yes, Gavin,” he answered. “His head is back on his shoulders where it belongs.”

Gavin let his hand fall into his lap. “Ah. That’s good. Right.” He stared at Nines and found himself opening his mouth before he could think better of it. “About that. Can you… That’s just. Like. Does yours...?”

“Can mine come off too?” Gavin nodded as Nines smoothly closed the distance between them, sitting beside him on the bed. The mattress dipped and Gavin felt their bodies brush as gravity did what it did best. He sat a little straighter, tensing up instinctively. Nines stiffened a little too. He crossed an arm over his chest and looked at the floor. “Yes. Does that… scare you?”

After everything Gavin had seen tonight, he wasn’t sure how anything made him feel. He’d watched this man gut people as if it was nothing. He’d watched him level an entire building with them standing in the middle of it. Dullahans… They were death-omens, right? That was what his gran had always told him. And yet… Nines didn’t scare him. Even after seeing what he could do, what he’d done to get them out of that facility… 

Gavin swallowed around his dry mouth and shook his head. “No,” he told him. “You’ll have to come up with a different party trick to wow me now.”

That earned him a little laugh. Not much of one, but it still felt like rain after a drought given the night they’d both just had. Frayed nerves soothed themselves into something calmer in the wake of the sound. Nines tucked some hair behind his ear as he looked at Gavin from beneath his eyelashes. “Thank you,” he said softly. His voice was cracked around the edges. Raw. “For everything you’ve done. Thank you, Gavin.”

Heat stung Gavin’s cheeks. He cleared his throat. It didn’t help. “It’s— It’s nothing. Just doing my job. Which I hopefully will get to keep after all the shit we just pulled. I’ll need you to come down to the station tomorrow. Silas too if he’s up to it. We’ll need to give statements. Lie about some shit. And there’s… someone you’ll need to see down there. Someone important.”

Curiosity glinted in Nines’s eyes. He narrowed them every so slightly. “We can’t reveal ourselves to anyone,” he said quietly. “If others from that organization find out about us…”

“We can keep it confidential,” Gavin promised. “But the best way to protect all of you is to get your story out there. If Silas can be a witness to the fucked up shit that group is doing, we can take down the rest of their operations. It’ll never have to happen again. I’ll make sure of that personally.”

“Gavin…” Nines’s expression was complex, lips pursed as he looked to the floor. “You’ve done so much for us already.”

“I’m just doing my job,” Gavin repeated, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked at the wall and gave a weak shrug. “You needed help. You still need it, so…”

A hand had cupped his cheek suddenly, demolishing the thought he’d been trying to articulate. Gavin didn’t have it in him to resist as his focus was pulled back to the man sitting beside him on the bed. Nines’s eyes were… so blue, weren’t they? Intensely so, but with flecks of grey and green. Gavin held his breath as Nines leaned in. 

“Gavin,” he said quietly, so close that Gavin could feel his breath against his lips. “Just let me thank you, alright?”

The kiss came instead of a reply, but that was just as well. Speaking had lost its appeal somewhere between Fowler’s call and running from the armed goons locked away in that facility. Sweet, warm, and intense. Nines let made a soft little noise in the back of his throat, and Gavin was lost, just like that. He cupped the back of Nines’s head—only a little worried that it might fall off if he tugged his hair too hard—and deepened it with a groan of his own. It was probably a bad idea to lock lips with a guy capable of shooting shadow magic out of his hands, but after the night Gavin had had…

Maybe they both deserved a little mutual comfort in the end. 


	8. Chapter 8

Connor dug his nails into his jeans and did his best not to shake. His body was a livewire, a raw, exposed nerve, and every wayward draft and ambient noise filtering in from the precinct office outside the door added to the anxiety pounding through his every vein.

A heavy, warm hand settled on his bouncing knee, stilling it. “It’ll be okay, Con,” Hank told him. “They’ll be here soon, alright?”

Trying for a tight smile, Connor tried to relax. “I know,” he said, still feeling like he was one loud noise away from jumping right out of his skin. “I’m just…”

He trailed off into nothingness, but that was fine. Hank smiled back at him tiredly, understanding without needing to be told. He’d been a rock for Connor since this all began, through the highs and lows, the worries and doubts. Even after learning the truth, he still opened his home to him. Opened the door, let him inside, listened when he spoke and then took him seriously when things felt off. Not many would have been so kind, especially after… after everything Hank had seen him do, seen what he was capable of doing. Hank was a good man. Better than Connor deserved, and more than what he could have ever asked for. 

And now, Hank sat with him while he waited. Waited for what, he still wasn’t entirely sure. Last night he’d just known that something was  _ wrong.  _ So wrong, and he’d always kept an eye on the facilities, kept a lookout on their publicity stunts, the construction around the building, anything that could help, could give him some idea as to what was going on inside and might help him get back in, get back to Silas, to Nines. And then… then he’d seen the news, seen the fire, the destruction.

Connor reached for Hank’s hand, covering it with his own and squeezing tightly as panic froze his lungs like ice and threatened to send him spiralling towards the floor. God, he couldn’t take this waiting. It was the not knowing that ate at him, the utter lack of knowledge on what had happened, on who was on their way to meet with them now. Hank had told him that Gavin had something to do with it, that he’d been investigating things with the facility, but— 

An arm wrapped around Connor’s shoulders, pulling him flush to Hank’s side. Warmth overpowered the encroaching cold, snapping him back to the present. He sucked in a breathful of air and looked at Hank’s tense, calm expression, and Connor forced himself to calm down. He held tightly to Hank’s hand and looked at the door. Soon. They’d be here soon, and maybe then he’d finally learn who “they” was.

They had only been waiting for fifteen minutes or so. Connor had wanted to head to the precinct at the crack of dawn but Hank, tired, grouchy, and far more logical, had insisted they wait until seven to get out of bed. They wouldn’t even be able to get inside the building before then. Still, that hadn’t helped Connor relax. He doubted anything short of good news would. 

When there came a knock on the door, Connor just about leapt out of his skin. His head shot towards the door, eyes wide, hand crushing Hank’s as he forgot how to breathe. Hank grunted but didn’t try to pull away. He just cleared his throat and called out, “It’s open,” before holding Connor that much closer to his side, half to support him, half to keep him from rushing the door just to get the reveal over with as soon as physically possible.

The door opened. Detective Gavin Reed stepped inside. Connor’s stomach filled with lead. He stopped breathing, lips numb. 

“Anderson,” Gavin greeted, exhaustion alive and well on his haggard face. Deep bags sat beneath his eyes, his stubble on its way to beard status in a way he never let it approach. “You look like shit.”

“Speak for yourself, Reed,” Hank muttered, still holding Connor tight. “You… alone?”

Gavin leaned against the door frame and looked out into the hall. “Nah,” he answered, sending a shockwave through Connor’s system. “They’re moving a bit slow though. Give them a minute to catch up.”

They. Them. 

Connor didn’t dare hope; he wouldn’t be strong enough to handle it if it wasn’t true. His heart stuttered as footsteps rose up, slow and labored, a quiet voice murmuring something that couldn’t be made out at this distance. Connor tried to stand up but Hank kept him sitting. Gavin pushed away from the door frame after looking at something in the hall, entering the room just as two faces staggered their way in after him. 

Not even Hank could keep Connor in his seat then. 

“Nines?” Connor croaked, on his feet without conscious though, Hank half stumbling up after him as his arm came with him. “S...Silas?”

Two heads turned. Two pairs of eyes met Connor’s, one blue, the other a brownish red. Nines’s face crumpled as Silas began to cry silently. Nines held Silas around the middle, supporting him where he stood, but his other hand reached out and Connor… Connor reached back, wrapping his brothers in a hug so tight that none of them could scarcely draw enough breath to speak. 

How long had it been since he’d seen them? How much longer had it been since he’d touched them? When they had all been held at the facility, they were lucky if they glimpsed one another through the bars of a cage or the thick, reinforced glass of an observation cell while being transported to different testing rooms. Connor buried his face in Silas’s neck, shaking as he began to cry too. Nines, ever the tallest of them despite being the youngest, followed suit, hiding his face in Connor’s hair, his shoulders shaking as he cried silently along with the rest of them. 

“Wow,” Hank murmured, breaking the silence with a low whistle. “They look so much alike.”

“I know, right? Can you blame me for thinking Connor was someone else now?” Gavin asked, the usual mean spirited edge in his voice strangely absent in the quiet of the room. Connor lifted his head, letting Silas take up the crook of his shoulder as a hiding place. He could feel Silas shaking, trembling and clinging to him with more than just relief in his grip. Nines had been in contact with Gavin for a while, that much was becoming clear. The events of last night and the facility fire… 

“Can you give us a minute?” Connor croaked, looking over Silas’s shoulder to meet Hank’s worried gaze. Silas had only just left that hellish place, and it didn’t take much to see that he couldn’t stay standing for much longer. 

“Of course,” the man answered, already reaching for Gavin’s arm. “C’mon,” he coaxed, pulling the worn out looking detective towards the door. “Let’s get some caffeine in you, Reed. You look ready to drop.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gavin muttered, clearly letting himself take the out. His hip clipped Hank’s as they entered the hallway. Distantly, Connor heard him go on, “I could run a fuckin’ marathon.”

While they left, Connor pulled back, coaxing Silas to sit down. His knees buckled more than bent, and he fell into the uncomfortable office chair with a thump, his hand still wrapped around Connor’s wrist. Connor quickly yielded to Silas’s furtive tugging and sat down beside him, catching Nines watching the detectives as they filtered out. He waited until the door closed before asking the question that had been dogging him from the moment Nines had entered the door.

“How did you find Detective Reed?” He ran his fingers through Silas’s hair as he spoke. His younger brother had never been one for hugging and closeness, but right now Connor wouldn’t think to push him away. “How did… How did you manage to get back in there? How did you— How did you even get out?”

Nines tore his eyes away from the door. He sat down on Silas’s other side, resting his arm on the chair back to make sure that Silas knew he was close to him. “It wasn’t easy,” he murmured, still as brisk and clipped as Connor remembered. Nines had always been the coolest of the three of them, unflappable, composed, and quiet. “He found me first. I just… saw where our interests aligned. I never would have gotten to Sy if it wasn’t for him.”

Detective Reed… To think, he’d risk himself so much just for a stranger. It made it a little easier to forgive him for that misunderstanding the other day. He must have confused him for Nines and— God. They had been so close to crossing paths! Connor stifled a stressed laugh and forced himself not to let the strain show. He’d been treading water for so long that he could hardly believe he’d been so close to a life raft. It had brushed the tips of his fingers, but blind as he was, he hadn’t known to grab hold. 

“I thought you would be there too,” Nines said, bringing Connor’s focus back to the moment at hand. His face was crumpled with pain, brow furrowed and lips trembling as he went on. “I never knew you were out, they never— they never told me. They were separating us, breaking us up to put us in different labs and… I just waited for a chance and took it. I’ve been trying since then to get you out, but you were… already out.”

Connor nodded. He wound his arm around Silas’s hunched shoulders and pulled his brother closer, threading his fingers through soft, familiar hair. “I made friends with one of the lab techs. I stole a key, a pass card. I thought you were somewhere in there, locked up, but no matter where I looked I couldn’t find either of you. I…” Connor’s voice cracked as he remembered the things he’d tried so hard to forget over the years. “I couldn’t find you, so I had to leave.”

He’d gotten a job at the only place he thought might give him some resources to try again, ran as far as he could without losing track of the ones tracking him, and kept his head down as he did what he could from the outside. Which hadn’t been much, sad as it was to say it. Nines had always been the more tenacious of the three of them, the more cutthroat. It stood to reason he would push himself further, find allies that could help him. 

Connor hadn’t anticipated Gavin Reed of all people to factor into something like that, but that was what made Nines so capable. He saw resources where others weren’t, and the results could speak for themselves.

Quite literally, in fact, as Silas took that moment to rasp, “I thought you both were dead.”

Nines and Connor both stilled. They met eyes for a moment. They turned as one to look at Silas. Connor bit his lip as he took in his brother properly, the pallid hue to his skin and the dark bruises beneath his eyes. The suture around his neck that kept his head attached to his shoulders was partially hidden by a scarf, but Connor could see it where the garment drooped. The line was raw and inflamed, indicative of long separation and repeated abuse. It was a familiar sight, one Connor knew all too well. They all had borne a similar wound when they had been prisoners in that laboratory. 

After all, the ones studying them had no qualms about hurting something they didn’t truly believe was alive.

“We’re alive, Sy,” Connor said gently, holding his brother tighter. “We’re alive and we’re never going back to that place.”

Silas trembled. He hid his face in Connor’s shoulder. The borrowed clothing he wore was too big for him, and consisted of ripped jeans and patched flannel. Detective Reed’s then. Connor would see to it that Silas had clothing of his own once they were back home where they all belonged. 

But that begged the question, didn’t it? Where was home? Connor rocked Silas gently and looked at Nines. Nines wore clothing that fit him, meaning he must have bought them himself. With what money? Did he had a place to stay? Connor had some money saved up. It wasn’t a lot, but it could be enough, depending on what they planned to do next.

Biting his lip, Connor murmured to Nines, “We need to figure out what happens next. If there are people from that organization still around…” He ended the sentence there as Silas began to shiver in his arms. 

“Gavin’s going to talk to Captain Fowler. He said with our testimony he’d have enough evidence to get a conviction. We don’t… have to run,” Nines whispered, twisting his hands in his lap. “Not if we don’t want to.”

“Do you want to?” Connor asked, looking between the two of them. “We don’t… This isn’t our homeland. We could… go back. If you wanted. I don’t know what’s left of what all we remember of it, but we could start again there. If it’d be easier.” There were so many bad memories for all of them in this country. Just because Connor had had the time to build good ones didn’t mean they would feel keen on trying to do the same. 

But Nines shot him a look that could only be read as conflicted. 

“What?” Connor asked. “What’s wrong?”

Nines’s eyes glanced at the door Hank and Gavin had— Oh. Connor let out a sigh and smiled, eliciting a blush from his stoic brother. That explained it then. He could hardly judge him for getting attached to a human, but from what he knew about Detective Reed… Well, Connor supposed being the oldest brother was made for moments like these. Disapproving of his little brother’s crush was his duty. Keeping them apart by moving their family back to Ireland, however, was not. 

“We can talk about it later,” Connor said, easing the pressure off Nines for the moment. They needed Silas to give his thoughts too before they made any big decisions, and if there was one thing that was clear, it was that Silas wasn’t up for much more than bed rest for the foreseeable future. “I just want you both to know we have options, and… we’ll be together no matter where we go. Even if it’s across the ocean or right here. Detroit may not be Ireland, but it has its perks too.” 

“Like Detective Anderson?” Nines asked, raising a brow. 

Connor had the grace not to sputter. He may have still blushed though as he averted his eyes and pet Silas a little more intently. “Like a lot of things,” he defended. Sure, Hank was… a big facet of what made his new life more than the facade he’d intended it to be, but there was more besides that. He had friends here, a job, an apartment…

And his family now. 

Connor had his family back, and he’d never let them disappear again.


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ended up breaking the last chapter into two so we had a nice epilogue to round things out! I hope you all enjoyed this story, and if you did, please give a nice shout out to Gildedfrost for making this entire thing happen. This is frost's brain child and I'm just happy I was able to do it justice!

It took a lot to get Connor to let Nines and Silas out of his sight, but the logic of the situation prevailed when it came down to leaving the precinct. Silas was worn out already, dead on his feet, the excitement of the past few days coupled with the bad shape he’d been left in by the facility’s experiments proving too much for his frayed nerves to take. It hadn’t taken much to convince Connor that rest was better than him hovering over either of them, so when Gavin offered to drive Nines and Silas to Connor’s apartment for him, he’d accepted with only minimal argument.

The days that followed were a blur past that point. Connor had never been in Captain Fowler’s office so often, been spoken to by so many lawyers and attorneys and detectives. It hadn’t been easy to fabricate a ruse to cover up the true nature of what he and his brothers were, but in the end it hadn’t mattered much. All of the evidence Gavin had gathered proved to be more than enough to argue reckless endangerment and malpractice. The precinct had its case and Connor, finally, had his closure. 

At least, almost all of his closure. Connor had one more chapter left unread and he’d never forgive himself if he left it that way for much longer. 

So, that was what brought him once more to Hank’s doorstep, the sky holding back the rain but probably not for much longer. A chilly autumn breeze rolled past him, cutting through his coat as he warred with himself over the simple yet insurmountable task of ringing the doorbell in front of him. 

They’d lost track of one another during the maelstrom of litigation and court proceedings, so much so that Connor had barely had time to thank Hank for all he had done the night that Silas left the facility for good. It didn’t sit right with him to leave things like that. With that in mind, Connor bit the proverbial bullet and rang the bell. 

The door opened quicker than he anticipated. Connor started a little, looking up to find Hank staring back at him in just a hoodie and a pair of old boxers. Heat tinged Connor’s cheeks, forcing him to look away. It was a little strange how attractive Hank always seemed to look, even when just in his pajamas. Maybe there was something a little more than human about him in that regard. But, then again, maybe Connor was just that far gone for him. 

“Hey,” Connor said after a moment’s too long of silence. He winced a little, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. 

“Hey,” Hank answered, pushing away from the doorway. He held it open a little wider. “You gonna come inside?”

This man was too good to him. Connor smiled, nodding thankfully. He followed Hank into the warm house and heard the door close behind him. Off in the kitchen he spotted Sumo sleeping heavily on his dog bed by the table, paws twitching as he chased rabbits in his dreams. The scent of coffee filled the air, comforting and domestic. Connor drank it all in for a few seconds, taken back to a few months ago before everything happened and never quite  _ stopped  _ happening. 

He’d missed this, he realized with an ache that didn’t bode well for him. He’d missed being part of Hank’s world. 

“So,” Hank broached, bringing Connor back to the matter at hand. Connor turned, looking at Hank as he stood there casually, hands resting in his hoodie pouch. “How are things?”

“Busy,” Connor admitted, wincing a bit as he thought back to the events of the day. He’d been stuck with a team of lawyers since daybreak, more or less, hammering out the testimony that was going to be given on Silas’s behalf. “Silas won’t appear in court but they need his statements to make sure that the company behind the experiments are charged with kidnapping and the illegal medical procedures performed on him without his consent. I can’t blame him, but it makes things harder for the attorneys to get things to stick.”

Hank nodded. He understood, being a detective and all. “He’s been through a lot,” the man said. He paused there, looking at Connor carefully. “You all have. Are you getting any sleep, Connor?”

Connor shrugged. What had been done to him had been done to him years ago. For Silas, and even for Nines, it had only been weeks, maybe months. “We’ll be able to relax once it’s all over with,” he murmured. “If it means bearing the brunt of things so Silas doesn’t have to, I’ll do it willingly.”

“Well, you aren’t alone either,” Hank offered. His eyes traveled to the floor, his cheeks showing a bit of color suddenly. “If you need any help, you’ve got places you can turn to for it. But anyway. I doubt you came here just to give me an update,” he said, changing the topic before Connor could really think too hard as to why he wore that blush. “What do you need, Connor? Last I knew, you still had my number.”

Just like that, Connor was the one blushing now. He shoved his hands a little deeper into his pockets and shifted on his feet as he fought the urge to cough. That was the question, wasn’t it? He’d come here to close out a book he hadn’t wanted to leave unfinished, but now that the book was in front of him, the pages all but read… 

Suddenly, he was terrified of what would happen if he dared to close it shut. 

“Connor?”

“I’m… I…” Connor curled his hands into fists in his pockets and wondered where all his courage had disappeared to. He used to fight in battles once upon a time. He looked death in the face every single day and didn’t so much as wink, and yet now he wanted nothing more than to crawl beneath his bed and pretend that he wasn’t home. He forced himself to lift his head and look at Hank, but even then he only managed it for a few seconds before he found himself looking once more at the floor. Biting his lip, he tried for a smile. “We didn’t really get to talk about… us. Before. Everything happened so fast, and then my brothers were back and—”

“Ah,” Hank interrupted. A brow rose as he looked at Connor carefully. “We never did get to talk things out, did we?”

“No,” Connor echoed, his voice a little hollow. “We didn’t.”

Hank hummed and took a step closer. Connor resisted the urge to take a step back. “You’ve had a lot of things on your plate lately. Don’t beat yourself up over it. As far as excuses go, you’ve had a hell of a good one.”

It didn’t feel like that, but Connor supposed it was a matter of perspective more than anything else. He nodded anyway and listened to the rain patter against the window over the sink, against the roof above their heads. It was so chilly out there but so warm in here. Connor didn’t want to go back outside. He tried to let that thought give him the courage necessary to say what needed to be said. 

“I don’t know if Gavin told you,” Connor began, “but we don’t intend to leave Detroit once the court things are done.”

“He didn’t, but alright.”

Connor swallowed. “Captain Fowler made sure I would keep my job too, even though I falsified my records during the interview process.”

Hank smiled at that. “Jeffrey’s a good man. I’m not surprised.”

Why was this so hard? Was Hank making it harder on purpose by being so— so understanding? So kind? Connor pulled his hands out of his pockets and gave in to the need to run his fingers through his hair. 

“What I came here to say,” he led, wondering if Hank would judge him too much for pacing like a tiger caught in a cage. “What I wanted to tell you, was that… I just…”

Hank took another step forward, his own hands coming out of his pockets. “Uh huh.”

Connor found it a little hard to concentrate with Hank only a few feet away. “I just wanted to say that I don’t want things to be left the way we left them,” he said, train of thought catching and fleeing with every inch that disappeared between them. He took a step back only for Hank to match it. Outside, the storm grew a little louder, and that did little to help Connor focus on what he was trying to do. 

“Sure,” Hank said, nearly abreast with him now. He looked down at Connor with something unreadable dancing in his eyes. A lock of hair fell down to brush his cheek. Connor once again lost his train of thought as he warred with himself not to reach out and push it behind Hank’s ear. “What do you suggest we do about that?”

“What?” Connor asked intelligently. 

Smiling, Hank let out the breath of a laugh. “About how we left things,” he provided helpfully even as he got closer. “Got any suggestions?”

“That’s— I mean, I think we… What?” Hank backed him up, one hand falling to Connor’s hip while the other cradled his cheek. Connor stopped talking, eyes wide, heart erratic as the man closed the distance between them and kissed him without hesitation. 

Oh, Connor thought dully. Maybe he hadn’t ruined things quite as badly as he’d initially thought. 

The rest of his mind caught up quickly though, hopping on board with the current change in circumstances. He eagerly joined in on the festivities, even if he still wasn’t quite sure how things had gotten to this point, especially after he made a babbling mess of making amends. He clung to Hank’s shirt and parted his lips, letting Hank kiss him deeper, their tongues brushing as a shiver rolled down Connor’s spine. His back met the wall and Hank pressed him against it firmly. Before long, Connor was dizzy from breathlessness and pulling away for air just scant inches from Hank’s wet lips. 

“Wow,” he gasped, his forehead falling to press against Hank’s. “That was… Wow.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Connor,” Hank said, voice low and a little hoarse. “I never stopped liking you.”

“Even after you… saw me do what I did?” Connor whispered. 

The hand cradling his cheek moved lower, Hank’s thumb tracing the line of his neck’s seam hidden beneath the ribbon he wore to hide it from sight. “Of course,” Hank told him. “I know who you are, Connor. I just needed a chance to wrap my head around everything before I could accept that some things are a hell of a lot more than what they seem.”

Connor smiled, his cheeks twinging from how wide it was. He kissed Hank quickly, once, twice, three times, before embracing the man fully, drowning in his warmth. “Does this mean…”

Hank wrapped his arms around Connor. “Yeah?”

Emboldened, Connor let himself be greedy, even after all the good things that had come into his life over the past few weeks. He’d been through so much, lived half a life for so long out of necessity… He deserved a little happiness, didn’t he? He deserved to be selfish. 

“I want to be with you,” Connor said, voice still cracking along the way. He held tight to Hank, unable to look him in the eye. “I want to go on dates with you. I want to kiss you. I want to go out of the city on trips and I… I…” 

Hank ran his fingers through Connor’s hair. He coaxed his face away from his shoulder, making Connor meet his gaze. Hank was smiling, he realized. Smiling so kindly and gently that Connor began to laugh. Like a hopeless, lovesick idiot, he laughed and laughed and soon Hank was laughing with him. Sumo let out a quiet woof, awoken from his dreams of rabbits by the sound, and that just made Connor laugh even more. 

Because Hank would let him ask for things. He’d say yes every time. He’d go on dates with him and kiss him like a normal person. They’d take trips to romantic places and spend Valentine’s Day together, and Hank wouldn’t worry about what Connor was or could do— because he was Connor.  _ Just  _ Connor, and Hank accepted him for what he was. 

Standing there in the kitchen, Hank’s arms wrapped around him and the sound of laughter overpowering the sound of the rain, Connor realized that he felt... secure. It’d take some time to get used to the feeling, but he was sure he’d enjoy every minute of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you enjoyed this, please leave a comment to let me know! find me on twitter @tdcloud_writes for more dbh fun and be sure to check out my original work over at tdcloudofficial.com! I've got lots of juicy things over there and I really appreciate the support. until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you guys enjoyed the first installment of this new au! feel free to leave a comment if you liked it and stay tuned for what comes next!


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